Dragon Pox
by KnockturnSeller
Summary: A Muggle boy has Dragon Pox. Harry is going to help, no mater what.
1. Dragon Pox 1

THE BOY WITH DRAGON POX

Summary: A young Muggle is in hospital and the doctors are looking for a blood donor from a close relative. Harry has a plan to help. Pre Epilogue.

Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. Any character you might recognize belongs to her genius. She's a much better story teller than I am, too.

Chapter One: A Search and Introductions.

Eleanor Statterin was desperate when she called her old boyfriend.  
"Robert, Michael has what they think is a rare type of blood disorder. They're looking for a blood donor that'll match but it's hard because he has a rather odd incompatibility with all the blood they've tried so far," she said on the phone.

Robert O'Neil gripped his cell phone tightly in reaction to the words.  
"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes," Eleanor said. "We think there are other cousins on my aunt's side but we can't seem to find anything, even a name. Could you help us find them?"

"I'll do what I can," he said, "but I have to stay within the guidelines of department policies. I'll talk to my boss, see what we can come up with."

"Thanks so much, Robert," Eleanor said. "We're just at our wit's end right now."

"I can understand that," Robert returned. "I'll get started right away.  
Give my best to everyone and a good hug to that hellion of yours. He always had a special place in my heart. Like the child we never had."

"Oh you hopeless romantic," Eleanor said with a chuckle. "We would have made beautiful babies together. How's your wife and kids then?"

"Everyone's fine," Robert said. "Roland is nine and loves football.  
Wants to play for Manchester United, of course. Mary is seven and as cute and wonderful as can be. Loves horses, naturally. Anyway, I better let you go and get to work. Once again, hugs to everyone, okay?"

"Thanks Robert," Eleanor said.

Detective Constable O'Neil turned to his computer and did a rough search, got a last name that simply dropped out of sight then a couple others and traced the most promising down. The files said he sold mining and drilling equipment, moderately prosperous, though there was a gap in work and income about thirteen years ago. A bit odd for a salesman. Lives in Surrey. That was less than an hour away so he made a call and got a time to talk to them after work. Then he went to his boss and explained the situation with a request to take a couple days off to help find these missing cousins.

Petunia Dursley met Robert at the door with a painted on smile that seemed permanent. "Yes, do come in. Vernon is getting changed. He'll be out in a minute. Would you like a cuppa?"

"That would be most kind of you, ma'am" Robert said politely.

As she handed him the hot cup, Vernon came out to the living room and asked, "What is it we can do for you Constable?"

"For starters, please call me Robert," he said as he stood and shook hands. "This isn't a criminal investigation, I'm helping a friend out. I have permission from my boss to find a relative of Michael Statterin, the son of Eleanor Statterin. We've known each other since school, you see. Anyway,  
her son, that's Michael, is in hospital and they're looking for a compatible blood donor. Your son, Dudley, I contacted him already but in searching the family tree there is mention of a Lily Evans but I can't seem to find anything about her. No record after grammar school far as I can tell."

Vernon and Petunia exchanged horrid looks, not at all missed by the constable. Something about Dudley?

"She's dead," Petunia said with a tremor in her voice. "Both of them,  
him and my sister both gone. That was a very long time ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Robert said automatically. He saw that look again. "She was married then?"

"Yes, they were," Petunia said. "She had to get mixed up in that ...  
with that man."

He saw the two people exchange looks, knew what he was seeing but had to push this to conclusion without offending. "Is there something uncomfortable about all this? I'm only here to help find a donor for Eleanor's son. I don't wish to intrude on any family difficulties."

Vernon snorted then put on a grin like it was a well worn mask. "Oh no, no difficulties anymore."

The grin didn't extend to his eyes, Robert noticed, and got curious about the history here. But he wasn't here for history, he was here in this increasingly complicated and strained situation for reasons other than his personal and professional interest.

"Well, sir, I'm glad to hear that," he said casually. "Are there any children still around?"

A wave of anger passed over Vernon's face.

Petunia glanced at her husband then said, "Yes. A boy. We brought him up but we haven't seen him in years," she said, putting on a face that said she wanted to say more but decided she shouldn't share with a stranger.

"Do you know where he lives now?" Robert asked. Many times he'd been in worse conversations but that was professional. This seemed so much more personal than interviewing a suspect in a crime, like he was rubbing an old scar that still hurt and these people had done nothing to earn a nose-  
rubbing.

"I think I can help you," Petunia said, shooting a look toward her husband. "He sent us cards and pictures."

Vernon's face turned pink then red, he sputtered and said, "I thought we agreed to toss that rubbish out!"

Petunia gazed evenly at him with her lips pursed in anger, glanced at Robert then back and said pointedly, "It seems at the moment we could help save a boy's life. We owe him that much, Vernon."

She turned to Robert, tremoring with strain but used a pleasant voice to say, "I have all the pictures he sent. I'll get them. His address is on the envelopes." A sharp look toward Vernon and she walked out of the room.

Vernon sat in his chair with a look on his face that wasn't pleasant and Robert thought back to the last time he'd bollixed something up with the Misses and paid for it later. It looked like Mr. Dursley wasn't going to have a nice evening at all.

"Cost me my promotion," Vernon muttered. "Worthless little git. Had to take leave for a year. Nearly lost the house."

"Pardon sir?" Robert said though he heard every word.

"Never mind," Vernon said, glaring into space.

Petunia returned and handed Robert a handful of letters. "If any of these can help that poor boy out, you use them. If I could ask a favor,  
though," she said. Robert nodded and waited.

"Please, I'd like to keep the photographs. His children are just darling."

Another look shot toward her even redder faced husband said it was going to be a long night for the poor fellow. That last remark wasn't for him as Constable or someone trying to find a relative. No, Vernon was going to have a long night.

The return address was from Godric's Hollow, wherever that was. He glanced through the photos, two then three children growing up, the last ones with two boys about ten and eight, both wearing long cloaks, the younger girl a pointed hat with a broom in her hand, one of the old fashioned kind with straw tied to a warped branch. They really were engaging. The picture almost looked like it was alive with the smiles of the three youngsters. He blinked then handed them to Petunia.

"Very nice looking kids," I said. "Once again, I thank you for your time and most generous hospitality."

"He saved my son's life," Petunia said. "Maybe he can save another."

"That is my hope too. Once again my thanks for all your help, Mrs Dursley," he said, slipping his hand into his jacket. "My card. If anything comes up you might think could be helpful."

"Very nice to meet you Constable," Petunia said as he started to his car.

When he was a few blocks away he stopped, opened his phone and typed. "Hmm," he muttered softly. "Too long to drive there today. A phone call would work."

A short search into the police server and he found a phone number,  
gave it a ring and got an answering machine. Message left he headed back to the office where he looked up the name on the envelope and found another mystery. No work listed, nothing from Inland Revenue, a driver's license that was current, passport, many trips abroad with family, a lot of money for someone that didn't seem to be earning any. It didn't add up which was triggering his detective sensibilities. But then again, there was no indication of criminal history, no arrests, not even a parking ticket so that left out crime to explain the money and the anger he'd seen.

Even brokers paid corporate taxes but that path wasn't helpful either.  
With a warrant he could dig into the records but he didn't want to go that far, not yet, the man wasn't a criminal and deserved his privacy. Then he found nothing in the personals or social nets either. Apparently he had a couple Email addresses and cell phones so that could provide some means of finding out more if he needed to. But it still added up to a mystery.

"So, Mr. Potter, who are you really?" he asked aloud and went back to typing searches.

Back at the hospital later that afternoon he was sitting on Michael's bed with a checkerboard between them while his mother and father were chatting with the doctor away from the boy's hearing.

"So, Michael, you been good while you've been staying here?" he asked.

"Yes, Uncle Robbie," the seven year old boy replied.

"How's the food? Dating any of the nurses yet?" Robert asked.

Michael giggled and moved a piece. "Food's okay. Nurse Clarissa promised me a date but I have to wait til I'm old enough. I'm old enough now don't you think?" The boy looked up with bright eyes.

Robert snickered. "Yes, you just might be, mate. You doing school work while you're here?"

"Yeah," the boy said with a snort. "Mum has Lizzie next door getting it from my teachers. I wish she'd just forget so I don't have to do any more fractions."

Robert made a move on the board to set up a double. "I use fractions all the time at work," he said.

"You do?" Michael asked and absently moved into the trap.

"Well, sometimes anyway," and winked. Both snickered at the joke.

Robert's phone rang and it took a second to realize what the number meant. "No moving my pieces while I'm gone or I'll turn you upside down and dip your hair in the toilet," he told a giggling Michael with a grin, got up and went out in the hall.

"Detective Constable O'Neil. Is this Mr. Potter?"

"Yes sir, it is," the voice said. "What is it I can do for you, Constable?"

"Well, nothing official, not in the legal sense," Robert said to reassure.  
"You see, my friend's son is quite ill and the doctors were looking for a blood donor. Eleanor is related to you through your mother's family. We're trying to contact everyone we can to see if there's a suitable match."

"I see," the voice said. "If there's anything I can do to help, I'm available."

"That's very good of you," Robert said. Didn't sound like someone trying to hide anything. "Can you make an appointment with your local physician? I can send the needed information and forms for testing."

"That's quite alright," Harry said over the phone. "Where can I meet you?"

"I'm at Radcliffe Hospital right now," Robert said. "In Oxford. If you like we can set up an appointment here in the next few days, if that's what you'd prefer."

"Just a mo. Let me talk to my wife." A minute later he said, "I can meet you there anytime. Thirty minutes be alright?"

"Are you in Oxford, Mr Potter?" Robert asked.

"Not at the moment," Harry said, "but Radcliffe, that's close to the University. I'll be there as soon as I can get changed and app ... get there.  
What's the room number?"

Wondering just how this was going to all happen, Robert said, "Twelve fifty eight but don't put yourself out. Tomorrow would be just fine. I'm just happy you responded. I'm sure the lab here can draw blood for matching in the morning."

There was a pause, then the voice said, "Half an hour. No problem."

When he rang off he couldn't help but wonder more. First a mystery man, his family acting so oddly at the mere mention of him, Vernon's bluster and barely civil, rabid dislike of the man. Then he calls up and says he'll be here in half an hour, traveling half across the country to do it. Maybe he was in London, but no, his phone was in Dorset. At least the dialing code was in Dorset. Perhaps one of those forwarding services.

True to his word, in half an hour there was a knock on Michael's room door. Eleanor got up and there stood a rather smallish man with unruly black hair, an engaging smile and glasses with a small smudge of dirt on one cheek. Robert got up and placed himself between Michael and this man who shouldn't have been able to get where he was standing in so short a time.

"Mrs. Statterin?" the man asked.

"Yes?"

"I believe a Detective known to you has been asking for me,  
he said. "My name is Harry Potter. If I can be of any assistance to you or your son I put myself at your disposal. I understand we're related through my mother's family."

Eleanor turned to Robert and got a slight nod. "Do come in Mr. Potter.  
This is my son and the light of my life, Michael."

Harry looked at the boy and saw the spots around his neck, frowned,  
then put on a happy face. "Glad to meet you, young man. My name is Harry.  
How you feeling?"

The boy smiled shyly and shook the offered hand. "Pretty good. I beat Uncle Robbie in checkers today."

"You did?" Harry asked with a friendly voice, moving closer and looking again at the spots under the boy's chin then at the man standing close by.  
Didn't seem to be the natural father, they didn't look that much alike. But he did look concerned for the boy.

"Sure did," the boy said and leaned in close to quietly continue, "I think he let me beat him. He does that sometimes but don't tell him I know."

Standing back a little Harry said with all seriousness, "If you're that good at checkers maybe we could play a game of chess if we get the chance."

"I can play chess, a little," Michael said and beamed a grin.

"I just bet you can," Harry said. The hopeful doubt he had faded as he looked at the spots again when the boy raised his chin.

"Mrs. Statterin, you have a fine son and I'd like to take him up on a game or two later, with your permission," Harry said and glanced at the man eying him carefully. Police officer. Had the look. Two and two made four in the Muggle world too.

"Now, I should properly introduce myself to the Constable here. He went to a great deal of trouble to track me down," Harry said.

He turned to O'Neil and offered, "A cup of tea? Then we can talk to the doctors and see if a blood test would be helpful."

Robert saw a look, something that looked familiar, one police officer to another. He made a slight nod of his head in recognition. "I could use a good cuppa. My treat, though."

Harry grinned. "Most hospitable of you sir. Shall we?"

As they waited for the elevator to reach them, Robert asked, "Who do you work for, Mr. Potter?"

"I'm in law enforcement like you," he replied easily,"though I doubt our paths would ever likely cross."

The elevator arrived and they stepped in. A few people waiting started for the door then stopped, the doors shut and they were alone.

"If you don't mind me asking what agency do you work for then?"  
Robert asked.

"Auror's Office. Could you tell me what time it is?"

Robert glanced at his watch and said, "Seven thirteen."

"Take my hand," Harry said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Take my hand. I'll explain in a few minutes," Harry said and gently took a hesitant touch of fingers in his. "This'll feel a little strange."

Robert started to say something then the world dropped out from under his feet, twisting him inside out and back again and leaving his stomach roiling. He was standing in darkness, outside, on a lawn when his stomach gave a heave and he lost his lunch on the grass at his feet.

"There, better out than in, like a good friend of mine used to tell us,"  
Harry said as he patted the man's shoulder.

Robert managed to stand up, looked around and reacted instinctively,  
hand going for his weapon. He saw Harry reach into his sleeve and pull a stick out, pointing it at him just as he got his service automatic out of the holster. As he raised it he heard words.

"Accio bullets cenare'."

There was a slight tug on his gun hand as he continued to raise it,  
pointing the barrel at center mass without thinking then adjusting his stance.

Harry smiled then opened his hand to show just over a dozen nine millimeter shells in his palm.

"Sorry bout that," he said. "If you had discharged your weapon there would have been so many questions to answer and I don't think you'd've been able to answer very many of them."

Robert stared as the hand was held out to him. "Take them, please."

Robert held out his left hand and Harry dropped the bullets onto his palm, he stared at them for a moment then at his weapon, clicked the release and stared wide-eyed into the empty magazine. "How? What the ...?"

"Michael doesn't have a blood disorder, not like you think," Harry said.  
"Constable O'Neil. I need you to listen to me carefully. First thing is everything I'm going to tell you stays between you and me and the trees. I need your solemn word you will not repeat anything we talk about to anyone. I cannot emphasize how important this is to you."

Robert glanced at his gun, fingered the bullets in his other hand and looked up. "What is going on?"

"Your word as a keeper of the Queen's peace and as a man," Harry said. "This is very important. To you most especially."

Robert looked this strange man in the eye, saw no deceit and nodded.  
"Alright, for now. My word."

"I won't insult you by asking for anything more," Harry said. "You're a man to hold to his word. So, first off, we are at Southfield Golf Course.  
That's about three kilometers from Radcliffe Hospital. About the same from Oxford university. Could you tell me what time it is."

"Time?" Dumbly he looked at his watch again. "Seven fourt ... teen,"  
he said and frowned.

With his brow furrowing in questions he said, "In the elevator it was seven thirteen and now it's seven fourteen. We're three kilometers from Radcliffe you say."

"Constable Oneil. Can I call you Robert?" Harry asked and got a nod.  
"Good. Michael does not have what the doctors think he has. He has a form of Dragon Pox I believe. Very early stages. It can ben disfiguring or fatal if not treated properly. They won't be able to cure it."

"Dragon ... Pox?"

"Yes. Wizards get it. Thought we had it pretty much taken care of but it sometimes comes up out of nowhere," Harry said. "A blood transfusion,  
now that's an interesting approach, though I'd have to talk to Hermione about that but it seems like an interesting idea. Neville has said it is a genetic disorder but Madame Pomfrey doesn't agree. But then again, she's still working with eighteenth century potions." Harry finished and gave Robert a grin.

"Potter," Robert said. "I hope you understand when I say I'm totally at a loss. I haven't understood a thing since you said Michael didn't have what ... what the doctors said." He looked at his useless weapon then holstered it.

Harry didn't need to think about what to do next. Michael was a sick child, and though the doctors were doing their best, it wouldn't work. It wasn't the time to be subtle.

"Okay. You'll need to suspend your detective's index of suspicion for a few minutes and just accept what I'm going to say," Harry said. "I'm a wizard."

Robert guffawed. "Like Gandalf? Potter, I can't ..."

Harry said softly, "Lumos" and his wand lit. "Repello muggleton,  
muffliato, protego." His wand pulsed with light at the words.

He turned back to Constable O'Neil. "I said I'm a wizard. Gandalf was fictional. I'm not. I just made sure no one would disturb or overhear us.  
Notice how quiet it's gotten?

"There's a whole other world out there. We have kept the Muggle world and the Magical world apart for generations on generations. From the sixteen hundreds, I understand."

Robert had a strange look on his face but Harry continued. "Sorry.  
Magical and Muggle, non magical world. It's been centuries since there has been contact between us. I was raised as a Muggle. One of my best friends was Muggle born. My wife and her family come from a long line of Pure Bloods, though if you use that word around Ginny she'll likely turn your hair purple. For starters."

"Muggle. Pure Blood. Wizards. Right." Robert muttered.

"I'm head of the Auror's Office, British Ministry of Magic. I hunt down and capture Dark Wizards. Criminals, if you will," Harry said. "What Michael has is Dragon Pox, if the spots mean what I think. Like I said, I'll talk to Neville to be sure but I've seen it before. Ron's daughter had it but she's been free of it for a year now."

"Dragon Pox," Robert said, trying to get his head around all that had happened in the last five minutes of his life. A life he thought he had a pretty good handle on. Until this moment.

"Yes," Harry said seeing thee look in the man's eyes. "I suppose the real question for you right now is all this I've been saying, is it bull or what."

"Uh yeah," Robert said and looked at Harry again, suddenly realizing the both of them were bathed in the light from that stick. There was no guile evident in his expression or body language. "You're serious. You're telling me you do, you have magic, you do magic I mean. You want me to believe you're a wizard and that's your magic wand."

Harry gave a soft chuckle. "Yes. Holly with Phoenix feather core. Only one other like it was ever made," he said with a certain finality to his voice.  
"Had the Elder wand for a few hours but, well, never mind that for now. The important thing is for you to not just believe what I say but to truly accept it.  
This is very important. As an Auror, I can do what is needed without directly alerting the Ministry, though I'll have to explain to Shacklebolt why I've chosen this way of doing things. It's a touch risky, what I'm doing.

"I've been wanting to make contact with Scotland Yard or some such for a long time now. I think we can help each other out in certain cases,"  
Harry said. "Also, St. Mungo's could use a little shaking up, get into the swing of modern medical care. There's so much Muggle medicine could offer us, though I doubt the reverse would be true. Except in Michael's case."

Robert stared at the man in front of him. "Yes, Michael. I'd make a deal with the devil himself if it would help Eleanor."

Harry gazed evenly back at O'Neil. "I see. You two?"

"A long time ago," Robert said wistfully. "Almost got married, but I went to the Academy and we sort of fell apart after that. Still love her in a certain way. I'm married now and I love my wife and kids more than life itself."

"As a husband and father, I couldn't agree with you more," Harry said.  
"Now, though, we need to figure out how to have Michael seen by Neville and some Healers. The sooner the better.

"What you need to do is talk to Eleanor, make her understand Michael needs to be seen by a specialist. That's going to cause problems with the hospital staff. That can't be helped but we'll need to be, uh, careful in what we say and do. Can I count on you?"

Robert thought a moment. A deal with the devil himself he'd said. "If it's for Michael, I'm your man. Now, just to satisfy my curiosity, could I see a bit of magic?"

Harry laughed. "Tell you what. I'd like you to meet Kingsley Shacklebolt. He used to work for the Prime Minister. Of England. Muggle England," Harry said. "I think you'd make a good liaison officer between our departments. You up for something completely different?"

Robert chuffed and Harry stared at him. "John Cleese," Robert said with a grin.

Harry thought a moment then burst out in laughter. "Yes. When I need a good laugh he always does it for me. If this works out like I hope it does,  
it'll be that. Something completely different."

"All of this is real then?" Robert asked. "You're a wizard, an Auror you said, and there's a whole other world out there I've never heard about.  
Never even imagined?"

Harry chuckled. "You'll see tomorrow. For now how about we have that cup of tea. Would you mind apparating again? I can get us pretty close to Radcliffe without being seen and we can visit with Michael some more.  
Charming young lad. He'd like my Lily I think. And you have some difficult work to do."

Robert O'Neil frowned. "Will I blow my cookies again?"

"Probably. I nearly did the first time I did side-along with Dumbledore but I was only sixteen then and used to odd things." Harry gave a short laugh and said, "After a while, you get used to it. Ready?"

"Have at it, mate," Robert said and held out his hand.  



	2. Dragon Pox 2

THE BOY WITH DRAGON POX

Summary: A young Muggle is in hospital and the doctors are looking for a blood donor from a close relative. Harry has a plan to help. Pre Epilogue.

Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. Any character you might recognize belongs to her genius. She's a much better story teller than I am, too.

Chapter Two: Meeting with the Minister

"Kingsley," Harry Potter said jovially, holding the elevator grate open.  
"Good to see you again."

Kingsley Shacklebolt frowned and said in low, quiet tones, "I have a certain notice on my desk at the moment, Potter. Care to explain?"

"Certainly, sir," Harry cheerily answered. "Your office or mine?"

"Better yours," Kingsley said. "Secretaries are always chattering. I was one for some time, if you remember."

"Of course, sir," Harry said, stepped into the lift behind the Minister and pushed the button for level two.

Shacklebolt sat opposite Harry and pursed his lips after hearing about the hospitalized boy. "I understand your reasons but did you have to have contact with the Muggle police?" he asked and got a nod. "Michael Statterin you say?"

Harry nodded again.

"I'll look into it. I'm sure Filius or Minerva will have records on the lad and his family," Kingsley said. "Wizard? You sure of this?"

"He has Dragon Pox, I'm pretty sure of that, though Madam Pomfrey should have a look along with Neville ," Harry said. "Seems he's a wizard in the making. Since he is, assuming I'm right so far, then he might as well have a little exposure to our world before he has to enter it like I did: cold and hard with bunk on how to deal."

"Yes, that can be rough on a Muggle born wizard," Kingsley agreed.  
"His parents? You think they'll handle it at his young age? Will they be a problem?"

"With a healthy son, no, no problem at all," Harry said and leaned forward. "If someone came to you and said they could cure your daughter of a fatal disease, wouldn't you accept the help and anything that came from it?"

"There is that," the Minister agreed, nodding his head.

"You know how much I've been trying to set up some form of cooperation between our world and the Muggle world," Harry said.

"Yes. I've read all the white papers you've sent," Kingsley said. "Your points are valid in every way but there is a long precedent for the Statute.  
So far, I don't see much to change my mind on that."

Harry sighed. An old argument. "There's always the Jugson case,"  
Harry said. "If we could have had help from the police we would have found him long before we did and those Muggles he killed would still be alive. I don't see how two dozen murders is proper justification for secrecy. Nor do I see their deaths as the price we must accept for our safety."

His voice rose and his hand slapped the desktop. "They had families,  
Kingsley. They left behind orphaned children, I have a particular affinity in that area, you know. We could have prevented it but for an ancient rule we haven't questioned in decades."

Kingsley sighed while waiting for the Auror sitting in front of him to calm down. "In my heart I hear you. As Minister, I must enforce the law just as you must as an Auror," he said heavily. Then he leaned in a little closer.  
"I do, however, agree there needs to be a bit of room to maneuver.

"You want this Constable O'Neil, you want him as liaison between the Muggle police and the Auror office?" he asked.

"Yes I do," Harry answered.

"You trust him?"

"I think he's an honest man that thinks of others before himself,"  
Harry said. "When we apparated I did a bit of legilimency to be sure I was doing the right thing. If there had been a doubt, I'd've Obliviated him right then.

"But if I had, then Michael, the boy in hospital, would be doomed."  
Harry sat back a little. "So yes, I trust O'Neil."  
Shacklebolt let out a long sigh and nodded his head. "Keep it low key.  
It gets out of hand I won't be able to protect you as I'll be removed from office and you'll be in the cell next to me in Azkaban. There are always people looking at this Ministry with envy for the power it has."

He sighed again and sat back in his chair. "If only they could see the terror I feel every day for fear I'll make a mistake, to be responsible for so many people, they just don't know, they don't understand. Don't make us targets."

Both men looked at each other then Kingsley said, "It might be better to meet him out of this arena, away from watching eyes."

Harry grinned. "I do believe I should tell Ginny to make dinner for at least two guests. Do you think I should bring Ron Weasley into this?"

Kingsley sighed at the turn of words. "You never do go part way with anything, do you Harry? Since you've likely put him neck deep in this already, yes, Ron. Hermione too. She's Muggleborn. She'd be a help. Need a babysitter? My wife adores your Lily."

"I think we'll be okay for this first meeting," Harry said with a grin. As soon as Kingsley Shacklebolt left, he turned to his fireplace, tossed a pinch of Floo powder on the grate and murmured clearly, "Godric's Hollow, Potter House." As soon as the green mist coalesced he said, "Ginny, love of my life.  
Guess who's coming to dinner?"

Harry met Constable O'Neil and Eleanor Statterin at a cafe' in Old Martson that had seen better days. The Pot and Bowl needed a few gallons of paint, the wood scrubbed, new curtains; all in all, somewhat of a tawdry place to invite friends. "Good to see you could make it, Robert, Eleanor.  
How's Michael?"

"Pretty much the same," Mrs. Statterin answered. "So, we're going to dinner?" Her eyes flicked around the store room at the back of the cafe' with its overstuffed shelves and dusty containers.

Harry grinned. "Yep. You'll like my wife's cooking. It's going to be a bit of a picnic. You're going to meet some of my friends, Ron and Hermione,  
you'll like them, and a few others. Anyway, Ron works with me and will be a big help along with Hermione. We've all been friends for, well, since I was eleven. Met them on a train to school. Bit of a story, that. Along with Neville and Madam Pomfrey, perhaps a Healer from St. Mungo's too, if possible."

"St. Mungo's?" Eleanor asked.

Harry sucked in his breath. "This is all for Michael. I have, lets see,  
how to put this. Let's just say for now there's some information I have available that'll help your son. Ron's daughter, Rose, she had something much the same not long ago but you'd not know she was deathly ill today.

"Now I have to ask a favor of you, Eleanor," Harry said. When she gazed at him cooly he said, "I have to ask you to not say anything about what you might learn tonight. Not to anyone except your husband and I'd like to be there when you do."

"I see," she said, glancing at the constable by her side, then around the dimly lit room. "Well, Frank's sitting with Michael while I go to dinner with a stranger in this ... place. Sure. What else should I do? Dance a jig in public? Of course I promise, if it'll help my son. You a father?"

"Yes ma'am," Harry said. "Three so far. And I'd give my life for them in a heartbeat, just like you would for Michael, so I accept your word to keep this under your hat for a little bit. We'll bring Frank into it after you are conversant in some things you, uh, won't quite understand at first."

At her frown he went on, "Sorry to be mysterious but I can promise you'll understand by the time you return in a few hours. You ready?"

A long sigh came from the anxious mother. "I don't really know but that's not going to stop me. I'm up for a leap of faith right now."

Harry stood and led the two to the back of the room, standing them in front of a monstrous fireplace that would have been the rage two hundred years ago. He took a pinch of Floo powder and tossed it on the cold grate.

"Ginny. I have company coming," he said into the green, flame-looking mist. A glance at Robert and he said, "Security. Call ahead or it's lockdown.  
For, uh, work, and the kids."

A face appeared composed within the cold green flames. "Okay sweetheart. Good luck," the wavering image said out of the hearth.

"Uh, what was ... what did I just see?" Eleanor asked.

"This is going to be interesting for you," Harry said. "Trust me. I showed Robert a bit of this yesterday and he trusts me now, more or less."

"I'm not going to blow eats again, am I? Not a good way to ingratiate one to one's hosts," Robert said.

Harry laughed. "Oh no. This is much more sedate. No problem at all.  
All you have to do when I toss this powder onto the hearth is hold my hand and we'll be at my home in no time. Literally."

Eleanor had a nervous look when she asked, "Robert? What is this?"

He grinned back. "I trust Mr. Potter. Let's just do as he asks. I'm sure it'll be as interesting as he says."

"Ah, jeez," she said. "I can't believe what I'm seeing anyway. Might as well find out what's behind the looking glass."

Harry snickered and said, "Bit of a blow up over that one. Anyway, just take my hand and step into the flames. They're quite harmless."

She did as asked and Robert joined her, stepping into the maw of the green lit fireplace with cold fire dancing about her feet. She stared at it.

Harry took a handful of Floo powder, loudly and clearly said, "Potter House," and tossed the dust at their feet.

Ginny smiled at her guests then stood back as Mrs Statterin let out a shriek, looked around wild-eyed and slowly caught her breath.

"I was like that the first time I traveled by Floo," Ginny said with a grin. "But then I was only six. Mum said I nearly blew her shoes off I squealed so loud."

She reached out to take the woman's shaking hand. "There you go dear. Let's get you a cloth so you can clean up a little. Always the problem with the old Network. Dusty fireplaces. Gets you all smutty."

"Mummy? Who's all these people?" a cute red haired girl with wide eyes asked when she skidded to a halt close to the fireplace.

"Lily flower, please introduce yourself properly to Mrs. Statterin and Mr. O'Neil," Ginny said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Lily Luna Potter," the girl said and shyly held out her hand.

"Good to meet you, Lily Luna," Robert said. "My name is Robert O'Neil," took her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. "This is Mrs. Statterin, my friend. She has a boy I think is just your age."

Lily turned to the gaping woman at the hearth. "You do? Is he coming to play too?"

"Uh, no, not this time," Eleanor managed to get out, gazing at the young girl in front of her, perfectly at ease with people standing in her fireplace.

"Can I have a cookie mummy?" the small girl asked.

"Not before dinner sweetheart," Ginny told her daughter. "Now, why don't you go out and play with your brothers. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione are coming so you'll have lots of cousins to play with."

"Can I get our brooms out?" she asked excitedly.

"Yes dear," Ginny answered, "but you can't go past the fence."

"Oh goody," she squealed. "Nice to meet you. Bye daddy," she said and was off in a swirl of red hair.

Ginny turned to the mother still standing at the hearth. "Come along and I'll get you a hot towel, dear. This must be a little overwhelming to you."

Eleanor stopped, turned, stared at the huge Brown owl perched by the door and smiled weakly. "It was until that darling girl of yours introduced herself. She wasn't worried so no reason for me to be. Might I ask where I am and what just happened?"

"Welcome to Potter House. Let's get freshened up, shall we?" Ginny said as she led her away. "You see, the Floo network ..."

O'Neil turned to Harry. "That wasn't as bad as that other thing.  
Apparate?" and got a nod. "Yes, well, it's all very strange still but then your wife was there and that lovely bundle of energy introduced herself so politely, it ... just like with my kids. Not quite what I was expecting."

Harry laughed. "I should show you Knockturn Alley then. That's an eyeopener. Come along and I'll show you the washroom. Old Floos are so messy. Glad I got this modern one installed when we built the house."

When they came out there were others in the living room. They all stood up in the presence of guests and Harry said, "I'd like to introduce Robert O'Neil of the London Metropolitan Police and Eleanor Statterin,  
Michael's mother."

Introductions were made and they all shook. Ron leaned in close to murmur to Harry, "Muggles? You sure about this?"

"Absolutely," Harry said with a grin. "This is the opportunity I've been waiting for and there's a child with Dragon Pox in a Muggle hospital that needs our help. He's the main focus for now. He's going to be getting his Letter in a few years anyway, might as well bring the family into our world and get them used to it."

Hermione moved in close. "You're completely mental, Harry, but at least I know Ron's in good company. How many rules are we going to break this time?"

"A few," Harry replied with a conspiratorial grin.

"Should we hold anything back?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Harry said. "Shacklebolt's going to be here."

Hermione's eyes flared wide. "Jumping right off the cliff as usual," she said with a grin growing. "Count us in."

There was a shriek outside and Lily stomped into the house. "Mummy!  
Hugo took my broom and won't give it back."

Ron started to move but Hermione put a hand on his arm. He settled and told the girl, "Tell him if his father has to come out there to make him behave it'll be a grounding and no broom for a month."

Lily got a grin on, turned and ran out through the door with red hair dancing about her shoulders. "Hugo, you give me my broom back right now or else I'll ..."

Ginny called after her. "No hexing young lady or it's the same for you."

Robert looked around at the people he just now was beginning to understand and appreciate as being just regular folks. "Brooms? Hexing?"

"They're just practice brooms," Ginny said. "Not fast enough to injure,  
not seriously, though they all have skinned knees and elbows. Toughens em up and they have so much fun."

"I see. I think I see," Eleanor said. "You all are friends then?"

Harry laughed and said, "That's a longer story than we have time for but I will say all of us have saved each other's lives many times over. More than friends. I trust them, I have trusted them with my life and many others'. I ask that you trust them, though you're lucky enough not to have to eat mushrooms and trout for weeks on end to be able to do that."

Hermione snorted. "Harry, I tried everything I could to make them palatable. You know that."

Harry smiled. "Yes you did and it was always wonderful to eat your delicious cooking." They traded knowing looks.

Eleanor couldn't keep up with everything being said but understood the root level of things. These people were as close a family as could be. A lot of love was in this house. She could trust them. It was as simple as that.

She waited and when no one spoke she said, "I heard you say you think my Michael has something the doctors don't understand?"

Hermione said, "It's not that they don't understand, it ..." and she saw the look she was getting. "Harry says it's Dragon Pox. Rose had it and we nearly lost her it came on so fast. Sometimes it goes epidemic, like in seventeen thirty two when ..."

"Hermione," Ron said softly.

Hermione got a look then asked, "How long has Michael been sick?"

Eleanor thought back. "It's been a few weeks. We took him to the doctor and he said the lab tests said he might have leukemia. White blood count or something. But you're saying it's this ... What is Dragon Pox?"

Hermione paused, glanced at Ron then said, "It's a long story. The important part is it's a sickness only wizards and witches get. You do understand what that means?"

"Wizards? Witches?" Eleanor asked. She had a look of incredulity for a moment then relaxed and said,"So you're saying Michael ... he's a wizard?"

Hermione started to laugh from a memory of her parents but thought of the distraught mother anxiously sitting in the chair looking for guidance.  
"It seems that way," she replied seriously.

"Happens to the best of families," Ron said.

He smirked and Hermione frowned at him. "Ronald. Really. This is serious."

"Sorry dear," Ron said.

"Yes," Hermione said with amused exasperation and turned back to Eleanor. "Yes, it means your son is a wizard in the making, though we'd have to check with Professor McGonagall to be sure. Anyway, if it's Dragon Pox it can be cured but it's a bit difficult. He'll have to go to St. Mungo's Hospital for treatment, of course. Is that acceptable to you?"

The mother sat still a moment. "If it'll help my son, anything."

There was the sound of a deep voice then a rushing sound and Ginny got up. "Company's here. If you'll excuse me," and left the room. A moment later she led a tall, handsome black man dressed in a three piece suit and a gold ear ring into the room. Ron and Harry stood up instantly.

"Eleanor Statterin," Harry said. "Allow me to introduce Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic for the United Kingdom."

"Sit down you two. You're not fooling me for an instant," he said in a deep voice that matched his size and the men traded conspiratorial grins. He turned to the stunned mother. "I am honored to meet you, Mrs. Statterin.  
Please, call me Kingsley, my lady." He took her hand and touched his lips to the fingers resting on his palm then nodded to Robert solemnly. Both felt they had been singled out for an award just for being who they were, the man's charisma was so strong.

He looked around the room. "I take from that introduction you have told these two just about everything?" he asked and got nods. "I see. Full on charge, Harry, yes? And you, Weasley, you went along with this crazy scheme despite the Secrecy Statute?"

"Of course I did, sir," Ron said without hesitation. "Any mate of Harry's is a mate of mine."

"I'll never be able to keep you two under control," Kingsley said with a growing grin. "Dumbledore trained you well and I'm proud to have you working in the Ministry no matter the trouble you cause me."

Both Aurors stirred uncomfortably. Kingsley went on to say, "And for your further information, I'll never admit to having said that to anyone outside this room."

The three of them shared amused looks and Kingsley sat down, Ginny and Hermione moving to fetch tea, leaving two Muggles, the Minister of Magic and two unruly Aurors in the room to chat.

"So you see what we must do to help your son," Harry was saying.  
"The only real problem is to secure permission and a modicum of understanding." He gazed cooly at Kingsley. "A little cooperation between our Healers can surely lead to better care, especially if someone comes in that one hospital can't help with."

Kingsley nodded his head, "Yes, yes, and the next thing is to have St.  
Mungo's brewing up Skele Gro for their bone healing."

Harry nodded. "Seems like a good idea to me."

Kingsley rolled his eyes. "You need to spend a few years reading our history pertaining to contact with the Muggle world. It hasn't turned out very well. Not once. It's why we have the Statute. You must understand that after all this time."  
"To tell the truth, Minister, we're falling so far behind the Muggle world, in a few years they'll be able to do everything we do, only with technology instead of wands. They have X-ray machines that can see into your heart and watch it beat. I've seen it myself. We can't do that. We have a lot to learn from their medical knowledge," Harry said. "Have people in the Ministry looked at it from that angle?"  
Kingsley sighed. Ginny and Hermione came out from the kitchen with tea followed by Neville and Hanna Longbottom along with two black haired children, the girl with an Elf owl on her shoulder. Standing alongside was a sharp featured, matronly woman dressed in very old fashioned clothes. The two dazzled visitors and the Minister remained seated as the new folks hugged and shook hands, spending a minute catching up.

"You two go outside and play," Neville told his children. "They have their brooms out so be nice and they'll share."

Ginny piped up saying, "If they don't, tell them I said to share or I'll come out there and make sure and they won't like how I do it. Scoot. Have fun."

The two kids sprinted out the door, the girl stopping to put her tiny owl next to the huge Brown owl already there, reached into her pocket and handed both birds a treat, told hers to play nice then joined her brother. The two owls looked at each other a moment then turned to look out over the field as the two kids ran across the grass, seeming to think avoiding recognizing each other was best all around.

Harry spoke up. "The Minister and I were talking how Muggle medicine could help at St. Mungo's."

Kingsley sputtered his tea, holding the cup away from his clothes.  
"That's not exactly what we were discussing, Potter."

Harry snickered. "Madam Pomfrey, allow me to introduce Eleanor Statterin. She has a boy in hospital with what I think is Dragon Pox."

The older woman's eyes flared. "Oh my. Tell me, how long has he had red spots under his chin? Has he a rash on his feet? Green complexion?"

The conversation waxed and waned, two, sometimes three strings of talk going on at once until Lily came in to tell Ginny she was hungry and she really just had to have a cookie.

"Half a cookie and I better be able to see half a cookie on the table when I get out to the kitchen, little lady," she told her daughter. "We better get things started. Hard to say what the boys will get into if we don't get them fed pretty soon. If they get hungry enough best be counting your fingers on a regular basis."

After they all ate their fill of steaks, burgers and salads, the adults settled in the living room with tea, the kids heading upstairs to play with flying dragon toys.

Eleanor sipped her tea and said, "I hope you understand what I'm going to say and not take offense but you all seem so different than I'd imagined up to a few days ago. You have kids that need hugs or time outs,  
you're roasting over propane, there's a dishwasher, all the kit I'd expect to see anywhere in London. And you all talk about such regular things like how the kids are doing in school and what kind of car is reliable. I thought that if you're wizards, you could just poof something you wanted into existence."

Hermione started out, "Well, according to Gamp's..." and Ron put a hand on her arm.

"It's not that easy. Loads of restrictions," Ron said. "Hermione could tell us all the rules but you wouldn't understand and we'd be here all night discussing the ins and outs of how it all works."

Hermione huffed and said, "Ronald."

"You would dear," Ron said.

Hermione let out a sigh with a contrite grin. "Yes, I guess I would."

"I keep telling you to apply to Hogwarts," Ron said. "No one knows more about both our worlds than you do. You're wasted at the Ministry.  
You're smarter than all of us put together."

Hermione politely blushed, gently squeezing her husband's hand.  
"What we need to do is make a plan, Ron," and she caught Harry's eye. "A real plan, not like we did before when everything went bunk and we'd just go along until we could get away. Without half my skin burned off this time if you please."

Ron looked innocent and Harry snickered, saying, "I promise. And no dragons."

"Yes. Good idea," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "As long as you're both in on this, let's see how you've thought your way through it then."

Harry turned to Ron and nods were exchanged. Harry said, "Basically two ways things can go. First the easy way: Eleanor talks to her doctors and they agree to let Michael be seen by another doctor they don't know and have never heard of in a hospital that doesn't exist.

"Second: the hard way. They make a fuss and we intervene. Then either they let Eleanor and Frank take him out of the hospital, there could be a real put out made then, or we go in with wands blazing and do what needs to be done."

Kingsley spoke up gruffly. "I'd not be in favor of taking the boy out of the hospital by force. All kinds of repercussions to deal with."

Harry responded, "Then we have to hope the first way is on for them.  
That's what I'm working toward."

Kingsley gave Harry a stern look saying, "And you'll happily make all the trouble in the world, more trouble than you can imagine, if they can't be bothered to see it from your all-knowing point of view?"

Harry cooly returned the look. "We're talking about a boy's life. That's the only thing we need keep in mind." He glanced at the boy's mother and tried to look reassuring.

"Yes, well let's try to keep things tidy, shall we?" Kingsley said. "I need you two to keep me informed. Privately. For now, I should be getting home or my kids will be putting up a bother and I'd rather not have to call you two rogues in to justify my missing another evening with my wife."

He turned to the mother and said, "It's been an honor to meet you, my lady. I hope we can work things out in a calm and considered manner. That is, without letting these two gentlemen run roughshod over the British Medical system so I have to pay a courtesy call to the Prime Minister. Again.

"I must bid you all a good evening and my thanks for a most delicious feast, Ginny. As always, it's been good to be in your home once more. As soon as my son is better I'd like to invite you all to my place for dinner.  
Professors Longbottom and Pomfrey, it's been good to see you again. Please stop by the Ministry if you get a chance." He got up, lightly brushed his lips against Mrs. Statterin's fingers, nodded to the quiet constable, gave Hermione and Ginny a hug, Ron, Neville and Harry got warning looks, and headed out to the kitchen. There was a rushing sound from around the corner.

Ron grinned and said, "Well, that went pretty good, Harry. Just like you said it would."

Hermione gaped. "You planned this all out?" and got a grinning nod.  
"That was ... Brilliant."

Harry's grin widened, "Thanks, Hermione. Coming from you that's a high compliment."

Eleanor looked around the room. "So, you're going to help Michael?"

Harry smiled. "Of course we are. We just had to get Kingsley on our side in case something went wrong and we couldn't get your son to St.  
Mungo's without having to resort to, uh, doing things in an untidy manner.

"And if we do, the Minister will back us up. I'm sure of that," Harry said. "Did you hear him say he was going to give the Minister a call?"

Hermione frowned. "That's not what he said at all. He said he didn't want to have to make a courtesy call, likely to explain why two Aurors that should know better went rushing in with wands out and expect him to make amends simply because you're too hasty to do this the right way. Calmly and with a proper plan, for once."

Harry kept his grin. "So, you're going to help us then, Hermione?"

She smiled back and said, "Of course," then frowned.

Harry chuckled and held out his hand. Ron sighed, dug in his pocket and handed over a few sickles with a grin.

Hermione frowned harder. "Ronald. Just you wait until I get you home.  
Betting on me. I never."

Ron put on a look of purest innocence. "But dearest, you don't know if I was betting for or against you."

The Longbottoms joined in the laughter that followed, Madam Pomfrey smiling to herself, the three wives and mothers exchanging looks before giving each other smiling nods.

Harry said, "And now we have to get Madam Pomfrey and Neville into Radcliffe to take a look at young Mr. Statterin, with your permission of course, Eleanor."

Eleanor shook her head with an amused smile. "I wondered if you were going to include me in this plan of yours. Of course she can take a look, just to make sure if nothing else. I'll talk to Frank and we'll make the arrangements.

"But now, though the meal was most enjoyable and the company probably the most interesting I've ever encountered, I'd like to get back to Michael. Frank's had a long day at work already. He's got to be dead on his feet and he's absolutely barmy at checkers."

Ginny took her hand. "I'm so sorry to have kept you so long. The men,  
you know how they can be when they're planning something naughty. Let's get you freshened up and we'll get you back to your family. Someone has to make up for the way Harry and my brother have treated you."  
Harry stopped and exclaimed, "Ginny, we've been perfect gentlemen!"

"Of course you have, sweetheart," Ginny said and strode away with Eleanor, a grin on her face.

Harry muttered quietly, "One of these days I'm going to come out on top of these conversations. Always wanted to throw snowballs in hell."

"I heard that," Ginny said, turned to the mother as she walked, "If Michael turns out magical, please allow Hermione, Hannah and me to help you get through things. We'd be most honored to assist in any way," she said.

Ginny squeezed Eleanor's hand. "And if he isn't, you're always welcome to come visit. I'd love to meet your husband and son. I can Floo to London or wherever so it's really no trouble."

Ron laughed and went to the door to call his kids, Hermione fussing over them for a bit before Flooing them home.

Harry looked at Constable O'Neil. "You were rather quiet tonight. Any thoughts you'd like to add before I take you home?"

Robert gave Harry a level gaze. "I was here for Eleanor so I let her lead. But I want to say that before I met your friends I wasn't entirely sure I was right in trusting you and letting Eleanor trust you. Now I'm sure. I'd be proud to be of service to your Auror department. It's been a most fascinating evening, but it's really time I get home to my family too. Is there any way you could drop me off near my car at Radcliffe?"

Harry smiled. "How's your stomach?" He laughed at the look he got saying, "Sorry. Joking," and grinned. 


	3. Dragon Pox 3

THE BOY WITH DRAGON POX

Summary: A young Muggle is in hospital and the doctors are looking for a blood donor from a close relative. Harry has a plan to help. Pre Epilogue.

Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. Any character you might recognize belongs to her genius. She's a much better story teller than I am, too.

Chapter Three: A Visit to the Hospitals

The next morning Harry led Madam Pomfrey, Neville and Hermione toward the Nurses' station on Michael's floor. "The Muggle clothes Ginny lent you, they fitting alright?" he asked and got a curt nod from the Healer.

He went on to say, "Now, try not to talk with the staff, Poppy. Just remember, they're doing their very best and they've all spent years in training for their jobs. They really are quite skilled at what they do."

Poppy Pomfrey gave a half smile. "I can't believe I'm actually in a Muggle hospital. As you wish, Mr. Potter. I'll try not to make a scene."

"That's most appreciated," Harry said and tapped on Michael's door.

"Come in," Eleanor Statterin said and the four trooped through the open door, closing it behind them with Harry pulling his wand out to lightly brush it against the handle.

Harry murmured, "Colloportus", and turned toward the bed. "Eleanor,  
you met Neville, Hermione and Madam Pomfrey at dinner last night."

Patting her son's hand she said, "Yes. Good to meet you all again. This is Michael." She gazed affectionately at her son looking up from under the light cover blanket.

"Michael, these are some friends of mine," she told him. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

He looked up at the people around his bed. "I'm Michael and I am pleased to meet you." He turned and asked, "How was that, mum?"

A smiling Neville strode forward and held out his hand. "I'm Neville Longbottom. I'm a teacher and this lovely woman is Hog ... the school's, uh,  
doctor, I suppose you could say."

Poppy Pomfrey shot a look at Neville. "Yes, I suppose you could," she said then held out her hand, looking assuringly at the young boy as her expert eyes took in his condition. "You can call me Aunt Poppy. Would you like that?"

"Aunty Poppy," Michael said shyly. "You're a doctor? I seen lots and lots of doctors. Don't you have a white coat?"

She smiled and said, "Not all of us Healers wear a white coat, but I could conjure one up if you'd like."

Harry made a choking sound but held himself in check.

Michael said, "That's alright. You gonna azamine me too?"

"If that's alright with you," Poppy said kindly, taking out her wand.

"Am I going to get needles?" the boy asked with fear filled eyes locked onto the wand.

"Needles?" Pomfrey said in surprise then settled and put her professional face back on. "Of course not. I'm a Healer, not a shaman."

In a much calmer tone she asked, "Now, when did you first see these pretty spots under your chin?" and gave the boy a tickle.

Five minutes later Neville was setting up the checker board with Michael as the other adults left the room. Poppy Pomfrey started the conversation with, "No doubt. Dragon Pox alright. Mr. Potter adequately described the symptoms. It's still in it's early stages so it shouldn't be too hard to cure. I'd like Neville to help brew the potion for it, but it would be best if he could be at St. Mungo's."

Eleanor said, "I guess that would be alright. I still haven't talked to Frank about all this yet. He's at work but I can call him."

Harry stepped up to say, "I think it might be best if you ask him to take the day off so we can all meet. Where would it be convenient to do that?"

Eleanor sighed and said, "How about the cafe, that Pot and Bowl,  
where we ... Flooed? Is that it? Where we Flooed to your home. Frank's a very down-to-earth man. He'll take some serious convincing."

"You know him best," Harry said and got sly smile on his face. "Yes,  
that would be a good idea. Serious convincing," and turned to Madam Pomfrey.

"Would you like to meet the boy's father, Poppy?" he asked.

"Of course I would, Potter," she replied brusquely. "I don't give out potions to children without the parents' approval. And I'd love to visit Oxford while we're in the area, if you could find the time. Haven't been there for ages."

Harry nodded. "Yes. So Eleanor, if you'll call Frank and ask him to meet us at the Pot and Bowl, we can have a nice chat. I'm sure Neville wouldn't mind a few games of checkers. In the meantime I'll take Poppy to Oxford. Call me when you've talked to your husband and I'll make sure the caf is available."

Harry was following Hermione as she led Poppy through the Oxford Commons when his cell rang. Poppy jumped at the sound and Harry pulled it out of his pocket.

"Bloody noisy Muggle tellyphones," Poppy muttered. "Glad they restricted their use at Hogwarts to after hours and only in the Common Rooms."

Putting his cell away in its case, Harry turned to Poppy Pomfrey and said, "We'll be meeting with the Statterins at the cafe in two hours, perhaps a bit more. Have you been to Isaac Newton's old office, Aunty Poppy?"

"Not since well before you were born, Mr. Potter," Pomfrey said, giving an amused look. "Quite the alchemist for a Muggle he was. Did you know he was investigated? Some thought he was a squib that we didn't know about.  
Made quite a scene that did, according to the old books. Shall we?"  
Hermione led the way.

Two hours later they were at the Pot and Bowl, Madam Pomfrey fretting about the car Harry drove her in. "You really like this Muggle contraption?" she asked. "Yes, of course, you were raised by Muggles before you got your Letter, weren't you. Still, it is comfortable, rather pleasant if you don't look outside and see all the other carriages racing along at breakneck speeds."

Harry chuckled, holding the door open and helping the older woman out. "It's not all that bad once you get used to it. Ron learned, you know.  
Now he takes the kids out for a nice drive on weekends. You'd like it, I think."

She gave him a mildly disapproving look. "Now Mr. Potter, just because I let you drive me around in this motor carriage doesn't mean I'd let just anyone else do so. Give me a nice broom if I have to travel, I say.  
Better yet, Floo."

Harry chuckled softly. "Yes Poppy. Oh good, Eleanor's here with Frank.  
Shall we go meet them?"

Ten minutes later in the back room of the cafe Frank looked at his wife and said, "Are you losing your mind? I love you dearly but this is just too much. Have you been getting enough sleep? I know how worried you are with Michael so ill, but this ... Dragon Pox. Poppycock."

Eleanor cracked a tiny smile, looked at Harry and shrugged.

He gave her a look back, turned to Frank and said, "Please try to believe me, sir. Everything I just told you is true. You would have found out when Michael got his Letter inviting him to Hogwarts in a few years. This is just a fortuitous circumstance, though I wish it hadn't been your son being in hospital that brought us together.

"But the best way might be to just show you. Would you be up for that?" Harry asked. He looked at Hermione and got a nod.

Frank stared at Harry then leaned back and crossed his arms. "Do what you think best, Mr. Potter, but I'm not easily fooled."

"Yes, I can see that," Harry agreed amiably and turned to the mother.  
"Eleanor. Ginny and Hermione sent the kids to stay with their Uncle Bill and run around the beach. Would you like to meet the rest of my family?" His eyes glanced at the fireplace.

She gave a grin in the direction of her husband and nodded. "Yes. I think a day at the beach would be good for all of us. Frank, dear, this is going to be a little strange but trust these people. I've done this before.  
You'll find it most enlightening."

Harry stood up and everyone but Madam Pomfrey followed, Frank holding back then taking his wife's offered hand. "This had better be good,"  
he muttered.

Madam Pomfrey said, "I'll be at St. Mungo's if you need me, Potter."

Harry tossed a pinch of Floo powder at the cold hearth and said, "Shell Cottage, Cornwall."

When the misty green flames settled, he said, "Fleur, I have company on the way."

"Certainement 'Arry. All ready for you," came a pleasant voice from the fire-face in the green lit hearth.

"Bloody ..." Frank muttered.

Harry turned to Frank. "Just keep hold of Eleanor's hand and I'll take us through. You can close your eyes if you wish but it's more fun to watch."

He herded them all into the misty fire at their feet, made sure Frank was holding hands and smiled confidently at the man staring at the cold flames lapping around his legs. A handful of powder was tossed at their feet and Harry said, "Shell Cottage." Green light flared around them.

They all stepped out of the hearth and Frank stared at Fleur, his mouth flopping open as his eyes were held by the enthralling beauty before him.

Harry grinned at the man's vacant expression, remembering his first time and said, "This is Fleur and Bill Weasley, Eleanor. In-laws. Fleur is part Veela. It's a little disarming at first, the enchantment, but you'll get used to it."

Eleanor glared at her husband. "Frank. You're being impolite."

"Yes dear," he said dreamily, enraptured by Fleur's attraction.  
Fleur giggled softly and grinned at Bill. "Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Statterin. Welcome to our 'ome."

"Yes dear," the man said again, absently shaking an offered hand.

Eleanor popped her hand on her husband's shoulder. "Frank! Be nice.  
We're guests."

"Yes dear," he said, eyes still fixated on Fleur.

"Mon dieu," Fleur said. "I am sorry, I had forgotten. Please forgive 'im,  
Mrs. Statterin. I am part Veela, like 'Arry said. We are related to the ancient Greek Sirens, or they are related to us, no one knows for sure. 'Ee will recover un moment."

Eleanor pulled her husband's shoulder roughly and he turned, his eyes focusing on his wife. "Sorry dear. You were saying?" he asked and looked around the room with widening eyes.

"Dear lord," he muttered, staring around him. "Where? What is this?  
That's ... Is that the Channel?"

Bill reached out his hand and Frank automatically took it, staring out the window. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Statterin. I'm Bill Weasley. Can we get you some tea or coffee?"

"Tea? Coffee?" he asked, eyes flicking around him and stopping at Fleur once again, his face going all dreamy again.

"Fleur, dear, perhaps it would be best ..." Bill said.

"Oh. Oui oui," Fleur said. "Tea. Victoire and Dominique made cookies. I shall get them also." She turned and Frank idly looked in her direction and back at his wife.

"Do you know where we are? How'd we get here? We were at the cafe and now ...?"

She patted his arm. "Harry said we could talk here. You'll understand in a little bit."

Bill waved his arm and said, "Please. Let me show you our home and the beach. I need to check on the kids anyway. It's so nice of Harry to ask us to host a little get together. Any friend of Harry's is a friend of ours."

He showed them around the living room then took the still dazzled man outside. Half a dozen children were running around the beach in some sort of chasing game, then several more came zooming by at shoulder height off the ground.

Bill shouted out, "Victoire! I told you to keep your speed down. I don't want to bring you in to St. Mungo's again to get you patched up. That goes for you too, Mister Lupin."

"Okay daddy," the pretty teenager riding a broom said, slowing herself down with the others gathering up behind her.

Bill turned to see Frank staring at the children. He told him, "It's safe for them to ride here. If they crash, the sand breaks their fall and the nearest Muggles are miles away."

"Brooms," Frank breathed. "They're riding ...brooms." He saw the scars on his host's face, eyes widening, but didn't ask from pure politeness.

"Long story, these," Bill said, running a finger along a scar. "The younger ones ride kid's brooms. They're charmed to not fly higher than a couple meters. I do wish I could charm Victoire's to go slower, though ."

"Charmed?" Frank murmured softly.

"Victoire is quite the flyer isn't she?" Bill suggested with fatherly pride .  
"That's Teddy Lupin right behind her, then James, Albus, Hugo and Rose.  
The others, the younger ones, we won't let them ride their brooms on the beach yet. The littlest one is Louis. My pride and joy, he is."

"Tea's ready, darling. I weel watch them so you can talk," Fleur said from the door and Bill guided his guests into the living room.

Half an hour later Frank was looking at the people around him, shaking his head. "And this is true? What you're saying? Michael's really a wizard?"

Harry smiled and said, "In the making. Haven't you noticed odd things sometimes happening, like when he gets angry or hurt? Strong emotion?"

"Well, there was the time he fell out of the tree at the Mackenzie's,"  
Frank said. "There was no way I could have heard him calling from two blocks away but I heard him as clear as you sitting here. At the time I was concerned with his broken arm and didn't think about it. And when he threw tantrums, well, it got messy. Looking back, it sort of makes sense of a lot of little things. Odd things. Perhaps not so odd after all."

He looked at Harry and the others sitting with him calmly sipping tea or coffee while they discussed his son being a wizard. "This Dragon Pox, you say it can be cured but you want him at St. Mungo's for treatment?" Frank asked.

Harry sighed in relief. "Yes sir, we would. They're quite expert at it."

Frank thought for a moment. "So this bone marrow transfusion, it won't work?"

Harry shook his head. "If it were a blood disorder it likely would, but Hermione can explain all that better than I can. She was top of her class at Oxford. She's still trying to convince the Ministry to take her work on inheritance of magic in Muggle, non magical, families, seriously."

"Yes, you see," Hermione broke in, "some believe a squib, that's a person born to magical parents that has no innate magic, if they're in a family tree it just pops up now and then. But I think I can show that magic can be found in a series of double recessive alleles everyone has that sometimes meld in just the right meiotic pairing to make a Muggleborn witch..."

Everyone in the room was looking at her and she blushed. "Or wizard.  
Sorry. I'm doing it again."

Harry chuckled and said, "She really is genius with the science of it,  
though I can't say I understand more than two words out of twenty. Best to just nod politely." He got a harsh look from Hermione.

"Someday, Harry, it'll make sense to you and a lot of other people,"  
she said.

Frank sat quietly for a moment then said, "Yes. So, we're Muggles, non magical people, as you say. But we have a son that's magical and no one really knows how that happened?"  
Frank turned to his wife and asked, "And you go along with all this?"

She patted his arm. "Dear, we are at a place called Shell Cottage in Cornwall, at least four hundred kilometers from Oxford and we got here by way of a magical fireplace. Harry's a Wizard Police officer, Mrs. Weasley is a Veela, you felt that didn't you? We're having a nice conversation with these interesting people while the children outside are happily riding flying brooms around the beach. "Is there anything else you need to know to convince you?"  
"Hmmm," he murmured to himself. "I guess when you put it like that I can't use any argument against it."

Frank Statterin sat staring off into space for a few moments then turned to Harry. "My wife trusts you and she's a very good judge of character. After all, she said yes' to me, which shows she also has good taste."

There were several smiles around the room as they understood his humor as a form of accepting present company for what they were.

He grinned as Eleanor gave his arm a squeeze. "So, when I put all that together in one neat little package, I'm willing to go along with whatever you say. When should we do this?"

Harry smiled with satisfaction. "As soon as possible. Any trouble expected from the staff at Radcliffe?"

Frank snorted. "They'd better not get between me and what's best for Michael or they're going to find out what a feral father in a berserker rage looks like."

A chuckle sounded around the room and Harry said, "Fine then. Shall we all meet up around five tonight?" and he looked around to get nods.

"Five it is," he said. "I'll tell Madam Pomfrey to expect us by six. She's on summer sabbatical, teaching at St. Mungo's. Never stops working at her art, that woman, and I'm glad of it."

Frank looked up to gaze at Fleur one last time, the beguilement overcome by the conversation and concern for his son. Once again, love conquered impulse and magical charm. "Shall we get back then? I have a lot of talking to do," he said.

At the hospital there was quite a discussion going on between the medical staff and Michael's parents.

Frank was saying, "I fully understand your concern, Doctor Simons.  
You've given your best care to my son, don't think I have any other idea about that, but we have a specialist we'd like to see Michael."

"This Doctor Pomfrey, you say," the doctor said. "Yes. We tried to look that name up but it's not found in any listing of the General Medical Council." This was said with more than a little puffing up of his professional and personal pride, once again looking at parents that didn't have the proper sense to do what he told them was best.  
"You're not thinking of letting some witch doctor care for him, are you?"

Frank and Eleanor exchanged looks. "I assure you sir, that is definitely not the case. Witches are myths, like King Arthur, not real. All I know is she is qualified and experienced and I am taking my son to see her. Right now I am asking for your approval, but this is what we are going to do. I will happily bring him back for your examination when he's better to assure you we are taking the right course of action. Would that ease your concerns?"

Doctor Simons puffed up for a moment then sighed. Another set of parents that would learn the hard way. "Please understand, Mr. Statterin, I only have the best interests of you and your family in mind. I suppose it won't hurt for him to be away from care for a short period of time, but I want you to promise to bring him back for a check up no later than two weeks from now.

"Further, I have to inform you that if there is no record of your son being under care after two weeks have elapsed, I feel it my duty to inform the Council and have your son found and brought to hospital. Leukemia is very serious if not treated promptly and properly."

Frank gazed levelly at the doctor and said, "Two weeks. I can assure you if I'm not satisfied with his care after that time, I'll bring him back to Radcliffe on a silver platter. I give you my word on that as daddy to the finest son a father could wish for."

"Well, I'm still not entirely comfortable with all this, but I'll take your word for now," the doctor said. "Two weeks, then."

Harry was discreetly listening to the conversation around the corner where he wouldn't be seen, wand hand tucked in his sleeve, ready to come out with a Confundus charm, or worse, if needed. But the doctor had acquiesced, reluctantly and with a promise of return care, but that likely wasn't going to be a problem. Still, the feeling coming from the doctor wasn't all that trusting, a bit of well covered deception present. And he had investigated Madam Pomfrey, that wasn't good. Harry moved down the hall and took his cell phone out of its metal case.

The trip to the Pot and Bowl was short. Just as they parked, Harry watched an older model car being driven by a man his age with bright red hair go by, the car following looking like a standard unmarked Metropolitan Police vehicle - Confundus was so convenient sometimes. He'd been right about the doctor's suspicions and his fellow Auror was now leading the pursuit on a wild goose chase. It might cause some problem, but he didn't think much would come of it. He'd've done the same if their positions were reversed, though his broom and Invisibility Cloak worked a lot better at covertly tailing a suspect.

At the hearth, Michael looked at the green flames suspiciously until his mother put her hand in them and encouraged him to do the same.

"It tickles," he chortled. "Are we really going like this mum?"

"You'll like it, sweetheart," she told him with a smile. "It's not scary or anything. Uncle Harry will toss some powder in, the green light will get real bright and poof, we'll be there."

"We going to see Miss Aunty Poppy? I like her," Michael said.

The family stepped in after Harry had given his warning call, he tossed a handful of powder and said very clearly, "Saint Mungo's," and disappeared.

"Aunty Poppy!" the boy cried out and ran into the woman's arms. She looked uncomfortable for a moment then hugged the happy child back.

"Welcome to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries,  
Michael," Madam Pomfrey said. "Would you like some butterbeer or pumpkin juice?"

"Daddy says I can't drink beer," Michael said solemnly. "And what's puffkin juice?"

"Pumpkin juice," Poppy corrected. She leaned down to share a special secret, saying softly, "I'd suggest a butterbeer. It'll just be a sweet drink I think you'll like."

He turned his head and asked, "Can I daddy?"

Frank turned to Harry and got a nod. "Go ahead, son, but behave for Madam Pomfrey."

Michael put his hand in Poppy's and gave a wave with his other hand,  
skipping along beside the older woman, head turning to look at everything he saw. What really caught his attention was a planter with a large, multi branched plant waving its arms, reaching out toward the two people walking past.

Madam Pomfrey turned to the green thing and sternly said, "This is my friend. His name is Michael. I want you to be nice to him or I'll come back and," carefully enunciating the words, "pluck your leaves."

The plant snapped all its branches back and tightly held them to its main stem with a shivering shake.

Michael giggled in merriment. "You talked to it. You talked to the plant."

"Yes." Poppy agreed. "It guards the hallways, Michael, so be careful to keep your hands to yourself until it gets to know you. It does like to be petted, you know." They walked on down the hall and turned a corner.

Frank was staring at the plant. "It's not dangerous is it?"

Harry tried not to laugh and said, "Not once Neville bred the venom out of them. Now, they're quite placid, unless you're out of bed when you're not supposed to. Filch would've loved to have a few dozen of those."

Frank smiled at the words and said, "I truly wish I understood the people you talk about. That more than anything else has been the convincing factor for me, the details of the people and the depth of everything you describe. You seem so - pardon my using the word but - so normal."

Harry laughed out loud, tried to stop but only laughed all the harder.  
When he got himself under control he said, "One of these days I'll have to tell you a story. Not today as Michael will be the focus of our attention, but do remind me to tell you about Ron, Hermione and me living in a tent in the Forest of Dean, escaping from a dungeon, robbing a bank, then getting away by flying a dragon across the middle of London in broad daylight. Normal can be a rather constraining word."  
"Robbing ... a bank," Frank said and gave a level, serious gaze at the man standing next to him.

"It wasn't what you think," Harry said quickly. "But like I said, for another day. I'll have to invite you to a nice afternoon barbecue and tell you all about it. For now, how about we wander off and talk to the staff. I'm sure they'll want to meet you. They don't often get to meet Mug ... uh, non-  
magical folks. Sorry about that."

Frank smiled in amusement. "It's alright. I don't mind."

"No doubt," Harry said, "but you're an honorable man. I'm afraid to say not all wizard folk are as open minded as, well, let's just say some have rather old ideas about our two communities. How about we find what room Poppy has taken Michael to."

It was a week later when Frank and Eleanor took Michael home with several bottles of medicine that he'd only take if he was promised a butterbeer afterwards. So they also had a crate of dusty bottles slung between them; the shopkeeper had assured them it was non-alcoholic when he sold them, Harry picking up the tab, saying they didn't have the right money anyway. They made an appointment to see Doctor Simons at his office then put a tired little boy in a bath and bed.

As they watched their son fall asleep from his bedroom door, Eleanor turned to her husband and said, "You know, in a way I feel privileged to have met all those nice people. Ginny invited us to a picnic Saturday if we'd like to come. Said Rose and Michael could compare notes on Dragon Pox. I don't think I've ever felt more comfortable with people I just met."

Frank hugged his bride of many years and said, "I was talking to Harry and he sort of hinted not everyone is on the up and up. Can't say it's much different than London, really. So many are wonderful, helpful people, but there's always a few here and there you have to watch out for. I imagine even witches have locks on their front door."

Eleanor gave a long sigh. "I suppose so. Still, I think I'm going to like having Michael become a wizard. And I have something else to tell you," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Frank turned and raised an eyebrow.

"You know, while all this was going on I saw Doctor Whitehall," she said with a growing grin. "Looks like we're going to have another witch or wizard in the family along about June."

Frank hugged his wife tightly and gave her a long, loving kiss. "That's such great news. We've been trying for so long. How did I end up with such a woman as you? I love you, Elly."

A/N I like happy endings. Two more chapters to go. PF9605 


	4. Dragon Pox 4

THE BOY WITH DRAGON POX

Summary: A young Muggle is in hospital and the doctors were looking for a blood donor from a close relative. Harry has a plan to bring Muggle and Magical medicine together. Pre Epilogue.

Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. Any character you might recognize belongs to her genius. She's a much better story teller than I am, too.

Chapter Four: Two Doctors and Secrets

Doctor Simons looked over Michael Statterin's lab results with total disbelief. A few weeks ago his white count was over one hundred thousand and climbing, today it was eleven thousand, which was totally impossible under any circumstances. There was simply no way, physiologically, a young child could change this rapidly. The boy was a medical anomaly, that's all there was to it.

"Frank, Eleanor," he said to the parents, "Michael seems to be just fine as far as I can tell. I am at a loss to explain it, but his white count looks more like a child with the sniffles than one that was terribly ill not three weeks ago."

Frank tried not to grin. "That's very good news, Doctor Simons."

"Yes, well, I'd still like to see him again in a week or so for a checkup,  
just to make sure, you understand," he said. "I have to say I'm a bit baffled at how fast he recovered. Not that I'm not totally pleased with what I'm seeing, please don't think that, but I do want to make sure there are no lasting effects to worry about."

"That would be just fine with us," Frank said. "I want to thank you for taking such good care of my son. I'll not forget how much you care for your patients."

"Thank you," Dr. Simons said. "If it wouldn't be too much to ask, what exactly did this Dr. Pomfrey do? I'm always interested in any treatment modality that can help other children." He looked at the two parents hoping they'd share. So many ill children came through his office. There were times to show confidence and pride in one's training and there were times to be humble with results not in one's control.

"Uh, that might be a bit dicey," Frank admitted. "I'm not totally clear on it myself as yet. She did say it wasn't leukemia but ... something else."

"I see," the doctor said, not seeing at all. Probably doing psychic surgery or some other sleight of hand, was his thought. Still, lab results are empiric. "If Dr. Pomfrey would care to pay a visit, I'd very much like to discuss her treatment. I'm always one to learn something new."

The parents glanced at each other. "I'll certainly mention your interest."

"I would be most grateful," the pediatrician said. "You can make an appointment with Mrs. Grady at the desk."

All stood up, Frank reaching out to shake hands. "Thank you once again, Doctor."

Dr. Simons read the results once more, then called the lab to make sure there was no confusion. Perhaps a mix up in samples.

"No, Dr. Simons. I personally re-ran the tests to make sure myself,"  
Dr. Al Rasheed said over the phone. "Rather odd, the incompatibilities,  
what? Quite a change. I even re-ran the old samples we had in storage. It came back exactly as before."

"Yes, rather odd," Dr. Simons agreed to himself as he took another look at the numbers.

When Michael came in the next week with his mother, she had a man with her that looked familiar. A bit smaller than average though he carried himself with a great deal of confidence, wiry, and the green eyes behind the glasses seemed to take in everything around him, filing the information away.

"Hello there Mr. Statterin," Dr. Simons said to Michael.

"I'm Michael," the boy said. "Mr. Statterin is my daddy."

"Yes, of course he is," the doctor agreed and turned to his mother. "If you'd like to take him back we can get the labs drawn."

"Come along, Mr. Statterin," the boy's mother said with an amused grin and took her giggling son's hand.

Dr. Simons looked at the man standing and watching the boy and his mother walk down the hall. "Didn't I see you visiting Michael when he was in hospital?" he asked.

"Yes sir," the man agreed. "Wonderful boy she has."

Something about him piqued his curiosity, so Dr Simons asked, "If I might ask, what is your relationship to him?"

The man put on a disarming smile and said, "Just friends."

"Just friends," Dr. Simons said. "I see."

Keeping that easy smile on, he said, "It's nothing nefarious. My wife just adores Michael. And Lily, my little girl, she latched onto him and they're the best of buds now."

At the look the doctor was giving him, he said, "Like I said, just friends."

Dr. Simons decided a bit of a chance was in order. "Do you know this Dr. Pomfrey they were talking about?"

"Actually, yes I do," the man returned with an amused expression.

"I'd rather like to talk with her," he said. "Would you happen to know how I can contact her?"

A thousand thoughts went through his head, most of them he'd already planned out, but when faced with taking another chance, he went through them again just to make sure.

"Are you an open minded man, Dr. Simons?" he asked casually.

Simons frowned at the change in tacks. "I like to think I can take in new information, analyze it and come to a logical conclusion," he said.

The man gave his best confident smile and thought of how he was going to explain this one to Shacklebolt. Or worse, the Wizengamot.

He asked the doctor, "How about when the conclusion defies logic?  
What do you do then?"

"And this relates to Dr. Pomfrey how?" Simons asked.

"She isn't what you might call your run-of-the-mill practitioner," was the answer. "Eccentric, one might say."

"There have been many discoveries in medicine made by the non run-  
of-the-mill eccentrics," Simons said. "In the eighteen hundreds, several medical students got together and experimented with various combinations of inhaled anesthetics until they found ones that worked. These days it would be called recreational drug use. Sometimes an open mind can see things others may miss."

Dr. Simons saw the interest in the man's eye and went on, "Michael was quite ill, the Statterins take him to someone I can find no trace of and he comes back as healthy as any child I've seen in my years of practice. I'm at a loss to explain this, so, yes, when I see Michael happy and healthy, I'm interested in off-the-wall ideas."

The man ran a hand over his receding black hair. "Yes, I can understand that. You should meet my friend Luna. She has all kinds of peculiar ideas, a few are actually quite brilliant," he said.

"So, this Dr. Pomfrey," Simons said to get back to the question, "would it be possible to talk to her? I'd very much like to meet her."

With the thought of how he was going to pull this one off, he said, "I'll see what I can do."

"I appreciate your efforts in this regard, sir," Simons said. "I must say I'm at a disadvantage. I don't know your name." He held out his hand.  
"Gregory Simons. So pleased to meet you."

"Potter, sir. Harry Potter."

Hermione frowned at Harry like she had been doing for nearly twenty years. "Are you insane?

Harry replied, "That inquiry usually means the questioner believes the questioned to be in said condition. Hence, any answer the questioned might give would be a null response."

Hermione frowned a little harder then relaxed. "You actually read 'The Logic of Argument and Rhetoric' I loaned you from Oxford?" and got a nod.  
"Well, for goodness sake, don't let Ron get hold of it. It's hard enough to keep ahead of him these days."

"Yes, Hermione," Harry said and got a flick of amusement on her face.

She huffed once and said, "Since your mind is already made up and you're merely asking to pique my curiosity and enlist my help, do you have an actual plan on how you are going to talk to this Dr. Simons?"

Harry sighed, "Let's see. I've done dinner with Ginny, lunch with Bill and Fleur and they both worked out pretty well. But I think Dr. Simons is going to be a bit more difficult."

"So you haven't a clue," Hermione stated needlessly.

Harry shrugged. "I just don't know what would really impress him."

"Oh Harry," Hermione said with another huff. "Hit him where he lives.  
Take him to St. Mungo's. Let him meet with the Healers."

Harry's eyes flared. "Shacklebolt would have me slow roasted if I exposed ... if I did that. We'd have to deal with a hospital full of Healers and I'm not that good with Memory Charms. Not that many."

Hermione smiled and said, "I have an idea."

Dr. Simons was standing on the hearth of a large fireplace in a seldom used and rather dusty room in Oxford University. "Mr. Potter. I've gone along with this plan of yours to meet this doctor with good humor so far, but what's this about my cell phone?"

Harry replied, "Trust me. It's best if you leave it here for the time being."

Hermione stepped close to the two men and said, "Madam Pomfrey is ready to meet you. It's all clear." She took the offered cell phone and put it on the table.

Harry looked at the doctor and said, "If you wouldn't mind, could you take my hand."

"I beg your pardon?" the older man asked.

Harry got a handful of Floo powder in one hand, took the doctor's hand in the other as Hermione hopped in, tossed the powder at the grate, pulled the doctor in close and said, "Hospital de Magie du Accident, Cannes."

"Mr. Potter. Just what the devil do you think ..." the doctor said, then looked around. "Where ... where are we?" he asked with a tremor in his voice.

Harry gave a small smile and said, "Hospital de Magie du Accident in Cannes, France."

Madam Pomfrey took the doctor's hand from Harry and said, "Welcome to Cannes, Dr. Simons. I'm Poppy Pomfrey. So glad to meet you. And you,  
Miss, uh, Mrs. Weasley."

Eyes roaming around the small room, Simons absently answered,  
"Pleased to meet you."

Pomfrey's mouth twitched in the shadow of a grin. "Yes. Come along then. Let's go for a tour. I think you might find this professionally interesting."

Dr. Simons had little to say until he saw the first patient. "Oh. Those spots around the neck. Petechiae? Like Michael Statterin?"

"Precisely," Madam Pomfrey answered. "Clear sign of Dragon Pox if there ever was one. Notice the greenish tinge to his skin?"

"Yes," the doctor said. "Never seen anything quite like it." Turning to Pomfrey he asked, "What are you doing for it?"

"We have a reliable potion," she answered. "Dumbledore was working on a better potion when he ... passed away. I believe Professor Longbottom is very close to reproducing his work. We should have a much better and significantly safer cure soon enough I'd think. Brilliant Man, Neville."

Dr. Simon's brow was furrowed. "Safer? Potion?"

"Come along," Poppy said and led him along the ward. "Yes. What we've been using has worked for centuries, but for some reason more and more, children especially, they aren't responding as well as they used to in my younger days, so we keep increasing the dosage. Frankly, I'm worried."

They stopped near another bed. "Now, Monsieur Delaqois here, he's one of those not responding as quickly as one would like."

On the bed was a teenaged boy with a deeply green complexion. "See here? Not only covered in red splotches from head to toe but sporting a sickly green pallor of such a color as I've never seen. As bad a case of Dragon Pox as there is. He's been under treatment for more than a week but it just isn't working."

Dr. Simons stared at the patient in bed, not wanting to believe what he was seeing, yet unable to convince himself his eyes were wrong. He was still staring, trying to figure out how his skin could possibly be so green, when he was nudged along by Pomfrey. When they were far enough away she turned to him with a very worried look.

"I'm afraid we're going to lose him," she said rather softly. "He's just not responding and we're already at the maximum safe dose. To tell the truth, the Healers here have given him thirty percent more than is called for and he's still not improving. I just don't know what to do for him.

"Every dose we give the boy makes his heart race out of control," she went on. "He breaks out in a terrible cold sweat and becomes quite irrational. Says he sees things flying about the room and he can't seem to gather the strength to lift a finger."

"What was his pulse rate and blood pressure?" Dr. Simons asked.

"Pulse, yes, rapid and hard to feel," Poppy said. "Blood pressure, well we don't really ... You do mean how hard his blood is being pumped, don't you?"

Harry saw Dr. Simons react with a fury before he got himself under control. "Blood pressure, Madam, is a basic vital sign. What do you mean you don't monitor that? It's quite clear your patient was suffering from hypotensive shock. Don't you have any vasopressors on hand?"

"Vasopressors?" Poppy asked with curiosity.

"Good lord," Dr. Simons said quietly. "I think we should have a little talk about a few things," and turned to Harry.

"I certainly hope there is a better explanation for this than I'm currently thinking, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded his head. "Perhaps we could go somewhere a little less public and discuss this."

An hour later Dr. Simon was in his office building, talking with one of his colleagues, making promises to return what he was asking for in good shape before finding Harry and hustling down a hallway.

"Will the aluminium foil protect these devices?" Dr. Simons asked.  
"They are absolutely essential and rather expensive, you know."

"Tell you the truth, I've never Flooed anything quite like this," Harry said. "If it doesn't work, I'll pay for them myself. Shall we?"

"We have a very ill boy that needs help," Dr. Simons said, picking up his bag of medications and hoisting two shiny-wrapped bundles. "Let's not waste time talking about it."

Half an hour later Poppy Pomfrey looked at the patient on the bed with a mixture of curiosity and horror, then at the boxes Dr. Simons had set up next to a tray of small jars, potion bags, and ... needles. Needles in her hospital. In her patient! With a tremor in her voice she asked, "You're sure this eyevee thing will work?"

"I use them all the time," Dr. Simons replied evenly. "I'm ready. Start the potion."

Pomfrey talked to the few others in the room in French then took the potion jar in her hand. "I told them I'd jinx the lot of them if they so much as touched a wand in this room," she said. "Ready Doctor?"

"Go ahead."

Three hours later the boy's complexion was pale but the green color was gone and he was eating a bowl of soup.

"I never," Poppy was saying. "Never in all my days would I have said this to a Muggle," and turned to Dr. Simons. "Thank you Dr. Simons. I'm proud to have worked with you, sir."

"Poppy," he answered, with a fond smile, "I just did my job. It was your potion that cured him. I think he was having a reaction that manifested itself in a hypotensive episode which interfered with him absorbing your potion. Passed through him like ... nevermind. Perhaps he's just sensitive to your medicine."

"Hmmm. Yes," Pomfrey said. "It's been most enlightening to work with you, my good man," she said and held her hand out.

Dr. Simons took it, then gently placed his other hand on top, and said,  
"You know, Poppy, we're not spring chickens either of us, but I'd very much like your company at dinner. Do you know of a quiet French restaurant close by where we might, uh, compare notes? And please, call me Gregory."

Poppy did something she hadn't done in longer than anyone could remember. She blushed, deeply and redly. "Why Dr. ... Gregory, I'd be honored," she replied and gave his hand a soft squeeze.

Hermione watched the two leave the room hand in hand. "Harry. I didn't think she even knew how to smile. All I ever saw her do was scowl at us at Hogwarts. She was acting like a fourth year girl at her first Yule Ball."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "Brings back bad memories."

"Oh, you're hopeless," Hermione said. "That was ages ago."

"I suppose it was," he agreed. "Now I have to think of a way to explain this to the Minister. At least we did it here where few people really understood what was going on."

Hermione shook her head. "Didn't you see Francois Albachier next to Madam Pomfrey? She was with the Beauxbatons that came for the Tri-  
Wizard competition. She speaks English better than I speak French."

"Merlin's shorts!" Harry exclaimed. "Will she say anything?"

Hermione gave Harry an indulgent smile. "Already taken care of. We had a conversation; she agreed to stay quiet and said she'd talk to the other Healers present to keep this all a secret."

"Hermione, you're my hero," Harry said. "If nothing else, at least Shacklebolt has removed the Dementors from Azkaban."

A week later Kingsley Shacklebolt glared at Harry across his desk.  
"This is going too far, Potter. I know where the Dementors went. I can bring them back to Azkaban, you know, just for you."

"Sorry, Minister," Harry said. "It was a desperate situation. The boy would have died according to Mad ... according to what I understood."

"As to Madam Pomfrey," Kingsley said with his voice sounding curious now rather than furious. "What is going on with her? I've seen her in every situation possible, but when I visited with her today, she was smiling. And giggling. Like a first year. Care to enlighten me on that?"

Harry chuckled. "Well, it appears she met someone that's become very special to her."

"And?" Kingsley demanded.

"Dr. Simons," Harry said. "He took her out to dinner after they cured the boy in Cannes. Seems they've become an item." He grinned in amusement.

"Potter," Kingsley said with frustration clear in his tone. "First you exposed O'Neil to us, then the Statterins, and now you've somehow managed to corrupt Madam Pomfrey. Is there any limit to how far you are going to go with this campaign of yours?"

"Honestly, Pomfrey and Simons was totally unexpected," Harry said.  
"How would anyone guess she'd fall head over heels for a Muggle? Especially at her age?"

Kingsley leaned back in his chair. "Well, I can't fault Poppy for falling in love. If nothing else she can keep tabs on this doctor. Maybe the Statute means more to her than it seems to mean to you.

"From now on, Harry, consult with me first," Kingsley said. "I can keep a lid on things if I know what's going on, being Minister does have its advantages. It also has its disadvantages, like a full hearing of the Wizengamot. Although I have more than half of them in agreement with me for most things, if this got out in an uncontrolled way I'd be worrying about the Dementors' Kiss myself. I cannot stress enough that you can't keep taking independent action like you have been doing.

"Harry this is important," he said in a very serious and sincere voice.  
"Please do not do anything further that involves the Muggle world learning more of us than they already do."

"But sir," Harry said, "we can benefit each other. There is so much to learn. A good mix of Muggle and Magical medicine alone can surely save lives, not to mention being able to call on the resources of Scotland Yard to track down Death Eaters. It's not much to risk, and if we are going to be so paranoid that people are forced to suffer and die all because we're afraid of our own shadow, what does that say for us?"

Kingsley steepled his fingers together in silence for a minute, eyes flicking from Harry to a portrait behind him, thought about where that particular portrait connected, then looked back again.

Kingsley put his hands on the desk in front of him. "I want your word that what I'm about to tell you never leaves this office."

"Of course, sir," Harry agreed.

"You don't know what you're agreeing to."

"True," Harry agreed amiably, "but that hasn't stopped me yet."

"Hmmm. Yes," Kingsley said. "I have been in contact with the Prime Minister's office for some time now. Their intelligence services first deduced that something unexplainable had been going on when Voldemort's Death Eaters were running rampant. They have these video camera things everywhere it seems. They're neither blind nor dullards and our Obliviators couldn't get to all of them. Worse yet, they figured out that something was happening to their officers we set memory charms on, something they knew was impossible, so they dug deeper.

"The Home Office was instructed to put a damper on it but it had already got the attention of some very dedicated and very, very intelligent people. They know about us, Harry. Do you understand what that means?  
They know about the Second Wizarding War. They know about Voldemort.  
They know about magic. They know we are living among them, as careful as we have tried to be. They know."

Harry said, "Then they should be glad we're here to protect them."

"You aren't using that finely trained brain of yours," Kingsley accused.  
"If they know, they'll want to take advantage of the situation. Use us. Put us to work for them. For their gain, not ours. Voldemort had the same idea, if you remember. Advantage and power. Of course, it will seem that we are just doing them a favor here and there, but the long term shows problems coming."

Kingsley frowned in concentration. "People have gone missing with no explanation. From both societies. What I fear, what we all fear, may have already started. 'Magic is Might'. Recall where you saw that? Now, put that into perspective. It works for both our worlds."

Kingsley could see Harry's thoughts on his face and decided now was the time to get his attention. "I understand you had possession of the Elder wand," Kingsley calmly said.

"Well, yes. I did. For a very short time. That's no secret."

"And you put it back in Dumbledore's tomb," Kingsley said.

Harry, for the first time in a long time, nearly came out of his chair. He stared at his boss in shock. "I ... no one ... I thought it best."

"You were going to say you thought no one saw you," Kingsley said.  
"That no one knew. Is that right?"

"Yes sir, it is." Harry slumped in his seat.

"I won't upset you by telling you what Minerva and I discovered in the Headmaster's office right after the Battle. We thought it should stay private so we ... secured ... the memories we found," Kingsley said, leaning back in his chair again.

Harry was quiet for some time. "Sir, if I might inquire how this affects our earlier conversation?"

Leaning back in his chair further and putting his fingers together,  
Kingsley Shacklebolt thought of what he was going to say next. He said nothing until he could see Harry nervously squirming in his chair.  
"We are in agreement about contact between our two worlds,"  
Kingsley said. "But, and I can't tell you how important this is, you must not take any further freelance actions that might upset the delicate balance the Prime Minister and I have been able to maintain. There are powerful people on both sides that want to take advantage of the other for their own ends.  
Short term ends. I cannot divulge some of the things going on in the background, even to you, and I trust you more than almost anyone alive,  
Harry. Let's just say that ... oddities have been cropping up of late that threaten the Muggle world as much as our own. Wars have been fought over such things."

It was time for the kicker. "Dumbledore left you clues in 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'."

"How did you ..." Harry started to ask and stopped. Hermione had never let that book out of her sight. Which meant ...

Kingsley let the information sink in, saw Harry understand how that little tidbit had to have been obtained, then said, "The Aurors aren't the only source of data available to the Ministry. Where did you think the information for your briefings came from? Did you think I wasn't up to building my own intelligence network? Lives are at stake here."

Kingsley saw the impact he was having and said, "I need you to talk to me before you do anything further in this area. Do I have your word on this?  
It means no more free agency on your part, and I wouldn't ask this of a trusted Auror and a close friend if I didn't think it important, but I'm asking it of you. Now."

He watched the play of emotions on Harry's face and saw he was having the needed effect. If only he could bring him into the inner circle.  
But, no, he wasn't at that point yet. He wouldn't see the need to control,  
carefully control, the shifting tides of social attitudes; he'd just go charging in and to hell with the consequences. So very much more was at stake than saving a few lives. Kingsley felt the onus of his office as he watched Harry take it all in, knowing he was going to withhold vital information from him because it was necessary for the benefit of all. It had been done to Harry once before and Kingsley felt the burden weigh heavily on his shoulders at having to repeat the terrible breech of trust.

Sometimes the "Greater Good" hurt. A lot.

Harry started nodding then said, "I agree. No freelancing. I'll consult with you first."

Kingsley found he'd been holding his breath and let it out in a long sigh. "That, my friend, is what I expected to hear from you."

Harry thought a moment more of everything he had heard in the last few minutes, and the things that hadn't been said. "There's a lot more to this you aren't saying. Not just what you said you weren't going to divulge, more than that."

Kingsley met the cool, intelligent gaze from the one man he knew he could trust in any way. "That is true. It must stay that way for the time being, but I give you my word that when the time comes, you'll understand.  
You may wish to not understand then and I'll honor that if that's your choice.  
The burden can be quite ... ponderous, Harry. Even after all you carried when you were younger, the bravery and selfless actions you took, this you might find to be heavier."

"Yes, I think I see that," Harry said. "I'll keep my impulses under control and I'll consult with you on a regular basis should it become necessary. You have my word, sir."

"I cannot express my thanks enough, Harry," Kingsley said. "I expected nothing less from you, of course, but again, thank you."

"You're welcome, Minister," Harry said.

"Now, I was thinking it's high time I repaid you and your wife's generous hospitality," The Minister said in a cheery voice. "Would your family be available for a roast up this weekend? I got this wonderful new barbecue for my birthday I've been dying to try out."

The Potter children were engaged in a game of three on three Quidditch with the Minister's children and a neighbor boy, zooming above the pasture by the horse corral as Harry watched. Shrieks and exuberant cries came from the field as he sipped a fire whiskey and traded stories of growing up in the Muggle world with Mrs. Shacklebolt. As they talked, a creepy feeling came over Harry, prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. After so many years as an Auror, he'd learned to pay attention to such things, so he got up when Ginny rose to help their hosts with the salad and dishes, looking around as carefully and nonchalantly as he could.

When he got the feel for the direction, he maneuvered himself until the patio covering hid him and slipped his wand out from his sleeve holder while fingering a few items in his pocket. Even at the Minister's home he was still an Auror, armed and ready. Very delicately, he applied a touch of Legilimency to the Holly until he felt it vibrate sympathetically. Being careful to keep his actions hidden under the cover, he brought it around in a small circle, found what he was afraid he was going to find and set about locating the source. When he had as much information as he could extract without putting too much power into it and giving the game up, he slipped the wand back in his sleeve and wandered over to help check the roasting meat on the barbecue.

After trading a few cooking suggestions he put his hand on Shacklebolt's and, as calmly as he could, said, "We're being watched."

A/N One more chapter. 


	5. Dragon Pox 5

THE BOY WITH DRAGON POX 5

Summary: A young Muggle is in hospital and the doctors were looking for a blood donor from a close relative. Harry had a plan to help but things are happening around him that threaten everything. Pre Epilogue.

Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. Any character you might recognize belongs to her genius. She's a much better story teller than I am, too.

Chapter Five: Watchers and Conversations

After trading a few cooking suggestions, Harry put his hand over Shacklebolt's and, as calmly as he could, said, "We're being watched. From the hill to the west. Three, maybe four men."

Shacklebolt twitched at the news and resisted the desire to turn and look for the intruders, instead looking at Harry. "I see. Risk assessment?"

"Not sure, sir," he replied, "but I think I'd like the children inside, just to be safe."

Shacklebolt's deep voice made a growling sound. "Yes. I'll tell ..."

"Sir, if you don't mind, Ginny will take care of things," Harry interrupted. "You need to play like you aren't aware and I need to find out what is going on."

"Agreed."

"For now, sir, I might suggest you take the roast and corn off the barbecue like you normally would, while I have a word with Ginny," Harry said.

"Yes. The best thing," Kingsley said and set about his duties as cook while his eyes nervously flicked around the area just past his patio.

Harry went inside to find his wife. "Dear, I think it might be best if we bring the children inside to wash up," he told Ginny with a flick of his eyebrows.

Ginny's eyes flared a moment and a frightened look crossed her face.  
Moving in close she murmured, "How dangerous?"

"We're being watched," Harry murmured, "and I'm going to find out who they are. Is Ron home, do you know?"

Quietly, Ginny said, "I believe so. Hermione said they were going to be painting their bedroom. I'll get the kids. If anything happens, we'll Floo out."

Harry fingered the galleon in his pocket then went to Shacklebolt's fireplace and tossed a pinch of powder in. "Ron. I need you to go to my house and bring my cloak here, along with our brooms. Quickly. If you can get Tellerman, that would be helpful, but quietly. Do it now."

That done, Harry went outside with a tray to help bring the food in,  
looking for all the world like he was just getting ready to set a table. A whoosh came from the living room and Ron was there with another man.

"What's up, Harry?" he asked, handing over a broom and the Invisibility Cloak. "I brought Tellerman." Both men had wands at the ready.

"We're under surveillance," Harry said to Ron. "I don't get a sense of who's out there, only that they wish to stay hidden and I don't think they're our people. The goal here will be to find out who they are and what they want without alerting their bosses. I'll fly out with my cloak and immobilize them, you two follow up and we'll see what's going on."

He turned to the other Auror. "You're the best Legilimens we have. I'll need your skills but this must be done very carefully. There's a lot more going on here than I can say at the moment. Any questions?"

Both men looked to Harry with a nod. "Good. Tellerman, until I call for you, make sure the kids are safe. I'm putting their safety in your hands."  
Tellerman nodded again, wand in hand and looking ready to bring destruction in extremis down on anyone that threatened the children under his watchful eyes.

Harry tossed the cloak over himself and his broom, flew out the front door, arced around the barn and went high. It took a minute to find where the people were they were so well hidden from sight, but their hideout couldn't prevent his wand from finding them. He flew high above their heads to get a feel for them, then came in for a close pass.

Wand in hand, Harry said, "Petrificus totalis," and banked around to land. A touch of the galleon in his pocket and two brooms launched at full tilt from the house below, his fellow Aurors joining him in seconds.

"Who are they?" Ron asked, looking at the four camouflaged men laying on the ground.

Harry turned to Tellerman. "It's your show. It's important to leave no trace."

"Will do, sir," the man said and held out his wand. "Legilimens," he voiced.

A minute later he put his wand away. "Soldiers. Former SAS now working for MI-6. I think I recognize one of them from Pontrilas, that Special Services camp where I trained. They were told to video the house with the idea they were watching a potential terrorist cell. Why would they think that,  
Harry?"

Ignoring the question, Harry said, "Did you see who gave them their orders?"

"Yes," the Auror said. "It was by remote video, but I'll recognize him if I see him."

"Thanks, Tellerman," Harry said. "For now, we need to alter their memories and see to their gear. Can you do that so they believe nothing happened? And the gear. Can we alter that to show the same?"

Tellerman frowned. "Sorry sir. This is the third day they've been here.  
That dish looking thing over there is a satellite link. Latest thing in Muggle electronics, though you might have hashed it with your jinx. Likely they've already sent what video they had. If I had a Time Turner ..."

"A bit late for that. Seems the kneazle's out of the bag," Harry said,  
Shacklebolt's conversation coming back to him. "Do what you think best to allay suspicion."

"Yes sir," Tellerman said. "Standard counter surveillance procedures.  
Leave it to me."

Harry turned to his friend and said, "Things are happening, Ron. This just shows someone has become very interested in us. Let's let Tellerman do his job and I'd better get back to dinner."

Harry sat at the table with his family, Kingsley flicking his gaze to him as they chatted as if nothing untoward had happened. Just two families having a get-together. When dinner was finished Harry took Kingsley aside to talk privately.

"I had Tellerman look around your house," Harry told the Minister and held out his hand. "He found listening devices. They're inoperative now but you'll have to be cautious from now on. My man can identify the boss for this expedition of theirs, and I'd like to have a little chat-up with him."

"Yes," Kingsley agreed. "I just might let you do that if I don't get the cooperation I want. I didn't think it would go this far so soon. You understand what I was telling you now?"

Harry let out a long sigh. "We haven't done anything to them. We've been protecting them. You think this was done officially or an independent action?" He frowned as he realized what his words meant with the Minister.

"I'll have to talk with the Prime Minister," Shacklebolt said. "With any luck it'll be a rogue operation, as they call it. That can be handled easily. If it's someone outside the government, or planned, that creates another problem. I'll let you know when I find out."

Harry let the ideas sink into his brain for a few moments and said, "I think I'm beginning to understand what you were saying at our last meeting.  
Whatever needs to be done to protect us, Muggle society too, I'm your man.  
Ron would be a help and keep things under his hat."

"Bring him in," Shacklebolt said. "I'll talk to him."

"Very good, Minister," Harry said. "You might consider increasing the security around your house in the near future. Repello and such."

"I would ," Kingsley said with a sigh, "but it raises havoc with the kids'  
television."

Shacklebolt saw the amusement in Harry's face and said, "Remember,  
no independent action. Keep me informed. This situation has gone up a notch, I think. We need to get this under control before it gets out of hand,  
for all of us. I'd better pay a personal call to the new Prime Minister. He just took office so I might as well introduce myself properly."

"Mr. Prime Minister," Shacklebolt said, holding out his hand.

"Please, call me James" the man in the office said with the confident smile of a career politician. "My secretary tells me you are a Minister yourself, though I'm not sure I caught who you are representing."

Kingsley nodded knowingly to the secretary that let him in and the door to the office closed. They would not be disturbed. "I used to work here many years ago. It hasn't changed all that much," he said as he casually looked around the room, taking it all in once again, including a certain portrait on the wall.

The Prime Minister gazed cooly at the man in front of him. Well cut suit, held himself with total confidence, the ring in his ear was a little distracting though. "And what was your title then, sir?" he asked.

"Under Secretary Without Portfolio," Kingsley said. "In reality, I guarded the Prime Minister from those that meant him and innocent Muggles harm."

"I beg your pardon, sir," James said. "That term is unfamiliar to me."

Kingsley slipped his wand out from his sleeve and said, "If you have any electronic devices turned on, may I suggest you turn them off. Like cell phones, video cameras, that sort of thing."

James looked at the man like he was not quite rational. "I don't understand," he said, looking at the door and wondering if he could escape in time, and whether that stick could injure him seriously.

"Indulge me a moment if you would," Kingsley said.

Kingsley flicked his wand and two chairs slid from a wall to bump the back of their legs. He sat down as the Prime Minister stared at the chair behind him.

"I take it from your expression," Kingsley said, "your predecessor didn't brief you on some things. Things you need to know."

"I've had quite extensive briefings, sir," James said indignantly. "My party is fully in charge of the government. Perhaps this meeting is...  
premature. If you would see my secretary and make a proper appointment,  
we ..."

"Your government, in charge. Yes." Kingsley sat calmly, tipping his wand back and forth, watching the Muggle Minister try to grasp what was going on around him, then gave his wand a tiny flick. The Prime Minister sat down. Hard.

"My apologies, sir," he said. "Neither of us have the time to set up an appointment. You have people in your government that are conducting what your predecessor called Rogue Operations'. They seemed to have been timed to take place during the recent change in leadership, which is unlikely to be an accident as we had an agreement. It is something you should look into and put a stop to immediately. I'd rather not have to handle the situation with my people. It causes so many problems for the both of us."

James glanced at the door and made a move to get up, found he seemed to be unable to lift his legs off the chair and fear coursed through him for the first time. Regaining his composure, he found his voice tremored when he asked, "Rogue Operations? By whom? Against whom?"

Kingsley steepled his fingers. "Against my family. Upset my dinner the other day. Four Special Services soldiers, apparently working for MI-6, were conducting surveillance on me, my family and my guests." He reached into his suit coat pocket and retrieved three small objects.

"These were found in my house. I'm told they were made for your counter terror teams. It would be a very good idea if I don't find any more of these electronic devices in my home again. Ever. Do you understand?"

"Sir, I assure you ..."

"You cannot assure what you do not know," Kingsley said sternly.  
"Now, I must offer my apologies. I've been most ungracious in not properly introducing myself. My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic for the United Kingdom and Ireland. I am a wizard and responsible for all wizards and witches in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales."

James looked at the door, again wondering if he could make it. "I ... I rather dislike being impolite to my guests but that ..."

"Don't bother, sir," Kingsley said. "We are just two men discussing the future interaction between our peoples. You need not be anything but blunt and direct. I take no offense and hope the reverse is true for me."

"Okay," James said slowly, carefully. "That's quite a story. I can't accept such an extraordinary claim prima facia."

Kingsley let out a long sigh. "Yes, yes, the tricks. I've done them before. I think this time I'll try something a little different. Harry thinks his is the best way to make introductions of this sort. Have you had lunch, Prime Minister?"

James stepped away from the fireplace with wide eyes, saw a man holding out his hand and took it automatically. A very large owl gazed at him from its perch near a window.

Kingsley spoke first, saying, "This is my wife," and they shook hands.  
Kingsley flicked his hand in Harry's direction and raised his eyebrows.

"I'm honored to meet you, Mr. Prime Minister. My name is Harry Potter and this is my bride and love of my life, Ginny," Harry said. She shook his hand politely. Harry stepped back and said, "If you would be so kind, I'd like to introduce you to my children."

James took a step, found he could move and followed, with Kingsley and his wife walking alongside him. In the yard Harry called out, "Lily,  
James, Albus, come here please, and bring your guests. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Five children raced their brooms over, coming to a halt in front of one very confused man. He solemnly shook each of their offered hands, looking at the old fashioned brooms they were sitting on. A meter off the ground.

"Do I ... I see what I think I see?" he asked.

Harry chuckled. "Go on and play now. Lunch in ten minutes."

The children turned their brooms. "Race ya to the fence." "I'll beat you there." "No you won't." "Last one there is a hippogriff," came out as they took off in five whooshes of air.

"Would you like some tea or coffee, sir," Harry offered, "or perhaps something a touch stronger?"

"Yes, I think so," James said with a subdued, shaky voice.

Nearly an hour later he stood in the yard and shook hands with Harry,  
Kingsley, Ginny and Mrs. Shacklebolt.

Kingsley said, "So you see the problems we face, James. I'll help all I can, of course, but this is not something that can get around. It's already gotten out of hand, and if you cannot control your own people, there may be consequences for the both of us. You do understand that now, yes?"

"I believe I do," James said. "I never imagined in my wildest dreams I would see what I have seen today. To be honest, I'm not sure I truly believe it all yet. But I do give you my word, I'll help you in keeping your people and mine safe. This Voldemort character, he really caused all those problems fifteen years ago? He really killed all those people?"

"I'm ashamed to say, yes," Kingsley said in a tired voice. "The price we had to pay to defeat him was very high. Mr. Potter here suffered as much as anyone. I lost many friends in that war and we keep the surviving thugs locked up, but we must maintain vigilance to keep those that would cause harm, or take advantage of others, away from society. That is Mr. Potter's job at the present time.

"He will also be my personal representative to you from this day forth.  
I can assure you he is most honorable and worthy of both our trust. He will speak for me."

Harry gasped and said, "Sir. I ... don't know what to say. I'm honored."

"You may not think so after a few years, Harry." Kingsley gazed cooly at his new representative to the Muggle government to impress upon him the seriousness of his new tasking.

"James, it might be a good idea to have a means of rapid communication," Kingsley said and reached into his pocket.

"Take this," he said, holding out a gold coin. "It was given to me some time ago when I was in a similar position as Mr. Potter is in now. If you encounter something unexplained that you feel my office could help with,  
rub your finger along the edge and we'll make contact. Press and hold your finger on the center and someone will Apparate to your location, but I must emphasize, only do that if absolutely necessary. It can be most ... unsettling to some to have Aurors pop into existence a few feet from you with wands in hand ready to blast walls down. When their directive is protection, they don't bother asking questions."

He looked around to see the kids were well clear and, with a small grin, said, "Go ahead. Press and hold your finger on the center."

The Prime Minister looked around, expecting to see something,  
anything, turned to Shacklebolt and said, "I pressed it but ..."

Multiple loud cracks shattered the air, six heavily padded and helmeted Aurors surrounding them with wands out, the air shimmering in front of the men for some time. James tried to get his shaking under control, looking around with his mouth hanging open. One of the two facing inwards asked,  
"Everything alright, Minister?"

"Yes, Mr. Dedalus, just fine." Shacklebolt held a hand out toward his guest and said, "This is the newly elected Prime Minister of England. Ensure the rest of the teams know him by sight."

Dedalus held out his hand. "It's an honor to meet you, sir." A few handshakes later, more cracks rent the air about them and they were alone once again.

Kingsley held out his hand. "It's been a great pleasure to meet with you, Mr. Prime Minister, but I think you may have been away from your office over long. If I may offer to take you back ..."

James shook hands all around again, then said, "If you would, could I see the children flying again? Fascinating, really. It would help me put all this into perspective."

Ginny smiled and took the man's arm. "I would be delighted, sir."

It was a week later when Harry called Ron onto his office. "There's a problem we have to solve. You won't need good clothes."

"That sounds like loads of fun, Harry," Ron replied. "What is it this time? Dragons raiding the zoo? House elves revolting? Bats in the belfry?"

Harry gave a sardonic grin. "A pack of gnomes escaped from Rushley Manor and invaded the sewers in Exeter. We get to go after them."

Ron snorted. "They want Aurors to clean out the sewers. Aurors. Tell me you've gone mental and I'm hallucinating."

"You've gone mental and I'm hallucinating," Harry said and laughed.  
"Actually, we're going to pay a visit to someone that doesn't take his superiors seriously. We're going to raid a high security installation. Load up with a few surprises in case things go as they usually do. Brooms too. We leave in fifteen minutes."

Ron gave Harry a pointed look. "One of these days that sense of humor is going to get your hair turned purple. Don't forget what Hermione would do if you got me in trouble."

Harry gave his best innocent look. "Me? Get you in trouble? When did I ever get you in trouble?"

Ron was loading his pockets when Harry met up with him. "Peruvian Darkness Powder, always a hit at the parties you invite me to. Puking pastille dust, courtesy of George, and a few experimental things he wants me to try out on unsuspecting victims. Says they're a real gasser. I don't think I'd want to be too close when they go off. Not sure what they do, really."

"Right," Harry said and picked up a few items for his own use. "We're going to discuss putting their efforts into finding bad guys rather than giving us trouble. The best information says the person I'm looking for was responsible for crashing the party at Shacklebolt's last month, so be on your toes. They may be Muggles, but they're well trained and armed to the teeth."

"Splendid, mate," Ron said. "Have I told you I resigned last week?"

"I do believe I might have missed that memo," Harry answered with a soft chuckle. "Ready to have a nice little chat?"

"You know me, Harry," Ron said. "I'll go wherever you go. Are we going to hang around for tea or do a snatch and grab?"

Harry checked his pockets and looked up. "Snatch and grab. Hit him where he lives."

They disapparated out of the Ministry into a forest, their boots squelching as they sank into soft mud. Ron looked down, held out his hand to catch the pouring rain and made a face.

"Right, just like always," Ron said "Why can't we land on a nice, warm,  
sunny beach someday? Like say, the Riviera?"

"Next time," Harry said. "I'll take a flyover first and locate the building.  
When I signal, you follow. We'll fly him out if we can, but if things go bonkers, side-along him back out here then call the brooms. If it gets real interesting, apparate out any way you can."

Ron looked at his friend in the gloomy light reflected off the clouds.  
"I'm not leaving without you. You know what Ginny would do to me?"

Harry wanted to say something smart, changed his mind and simply said, "Yes."

Ron thought a second and nodded. "Be careful."

Harry wrapped the Cloak around himself and as much of the broom as he could, launched out over the compound behind the fence and located the building the Prime Minister's office had told him was the target. There were a few guards roaming the periphery that only posed a threat if he was on foot;  
but the greater concern were the electronic sensors, very much a threat in every way. They were very good for any trespassers on the ground, climbers on the fence, diggers under it, but no provision had been made for silent brooms low overhead. Harry touched the coin in his pocket and Ron joined him.

"That one. Room on the far right corner. Better not land. Apparate in."  
Harry pointed his wand down and said, "Muffliato."

They were in and out before anyone knew they were there, holding a rather ill looking man between them in the dark woods. Harry quickly put an Incarcerous around the man's arms and upper body, tossed a dark cloth bag over his head, loaded him on his broom and got on behind him. When they were well clear of the area, he reached up and pulled the bag off.

The man yelled.

"Mr. Donner," Harry said in a jovial voice, "you squeal like a six year old, you know that?"

"Who do you think you are, kidnaping me?" the man growled.

"Why, sir, your best friend," Harry said. "Or your worst enemy. I'd like to pass on some information from your government's leadership."

"I don't answer to that Liberal Party pantywaist that can't tie his own shoes without people like me to help and inspect his work afterwards," the man snarled.

Harry turned them to the right and said, "I must compliment you on your bravado. Not many men finding themselves this high off the ground would have the ability to insult his superiors. But that is neither here nor there at the moment. I wish to discuss another subject."

"The only thing I'll discuss is my return and your surrender."

"Not likely," Harry said. "You have been engaged in activities the Prime Minister's office in not in favor of. You sent four men to spy on a certain person last month, ruining an otherwise lovely afternoon. This must not happen again. The price for such rogue operations can be unpleasant."

"I don't take orders from some sniveling underling like you," the man said in a harsh voice. "You can't threaten me. Someone else will take over and finish what I've started. I know who you are and what you are. You people are a threat that needs to be eliminated."

Harry turned to Ron. "You see any saving grace in this man,  
Dragomir?" he asked, hoping Ron remembered the Gringotts persona.

Ron sounded jovial when he replied, "Not a thing. Can I have a little fun with him first? My fingernail collection is getting old. I could use some new additions."

"I'll think about it," Harry said.

"Good cop, bad cop. Don't insult me. You won't do anything to harm me or I'll see your families burned inside their homes," the man growled.

Harry gave a push and streaked straight down toward the ground,  
barely pulling out in time to not splatter the both of them across a farmer's field. The man in front of him shrieked as he tipped precariously to one side until his shoulder contacted the gripping charm's boundaries, overcorrected and shrieked even louder as he leaned over the other side.

"We protect our people the same as you," Harry said as they sped past the shadows of trees in the gloom, a meter off the ground. "We do things differently, work in ways you can't imagine, but we do the same thing. We keep the world safe for our families and yours."

"I don't care what you claim. You're a threat and I'll be the one that ends that threat." Donner's voice was a shaky, but held firm to his convictions.

Harry set his lips in frustration, pulled up and slowed to land near the treeline, shielding them all and lighting his wand. "You're a very angry man,"  
he told the scowling man standing defiantly in front of him. "I knew two men as angry as you. One was as courageous as he was unhappy with his life,  
the other as greedy as he was hateful. In the end, both were destroyed by their choices.

"What is it that made you who you are?" Harry asked and muttered a few words with a flick of his wand to relax the man's hold on anger.

"You people," Donner spat out. "My wife, my children, you people did it. I vowed I'd find those responsible for their deaths and destroy them."

Harry wanted to say how sorry for him he was but it wasn't the time.  
Instead he said, "Tell me how it happened."

"They were so lovely, my son and daughter, my wife," he said, eyes looking into the dark distance. "They were driving across the Brockdale Bridge to go shopping. Shopping, you hear me?" Donner said, voice seething with outrage.

"They were innocent," he said, eyes fixing on Harry. "They didn't deserve to die. They did nothing to you, they were just driving, shopping for school clothes when the bridge was destroyed. They went down into the river. They told me the impact killed them, that they didn't suffer. It was fast, they said. But they died. You hear me? They died for no reason. They didn't do anything to you but you people killed them just the same."

The man snorted, staring hatefully at Harry. "There was no rational way for that bridge to fail like it did, the engineers said. I went there and talked to them. There was no reason for it to have failed at all. But I'd heard rumors, rumors of other strange things, so I made it my business to find out what had really happened. That's when I found out about your lot."

His face showed the anger returning as he spat out, "You did it. Your people. Evil, traitorous, murdering, heartless psychopaths. I've spent every minute of every hour since that day uncovering the lies, rooting out the evidence, finding the people that covered it all up in the name of security. I know everything now. You did it. When I die it will be in the sure knowledge that I brought your people to task, that I have destroyed your secret world,  
that I have rid our country of your murderous foulness."

Harry tried to think of something to say to the man, torn by grief and loss, his mind and heart tortured into madness, but sympathy would not accomplish the task.

"You seek vengeance?" Harry asked.

"I seek justice!" Donner shouted out.

"Justice?" Harry said with his voice rising. "You think you deserve justice? What about all the ones that died fighting the evil that killed your family? The others that were just in the way, that were murdered? What of their families, their justice?" That evil voice came to his mind, speaking those words, that flash of green light, and Cedric had died for no reason other than he simply wasn't needed, an encumbrance.

"The one you seek justice from is already dead," Harry said with the rage inside barely under control. "The one that sent the death that destroyed your family is dead. I fought him, destroyed every part of him, then faced him. He tried to kill me but couldn't do it. In the end, the one that caused your pain died from his own lust for power. I goaded him into attacking me and he was destroyed. Utterly destroyed."

Scenes from the Battle came to Harry, the people lost that night:  
Tonks, Remus, Fred, Collin, the dying girl Ginny comforted. Then those that had been killed before: Dobby, Mad Eye, Sirius falling through the Veil, all the others flashed through his head. Then making that long walk to the forest, Dumbledore sacrificing himself for the final end, so many innocents that were of no meaning to their killers, only marks on a tally sheet,  
amusements to be bragged about. The hurt welled up, boiling inside.

"You think you're the only man that has lost family?" Harry asked in a harsh voice. "My parents died because they were fighting against that evil.  
He murdered them in cold blood, defenseless. I've spent my whole life fighting back for all those deaths. I've killed to keep the pain I felt away from others. I've felt that pain every day, like the pain you feel. The one person responsible for your loss is already dead. This battle you've fought is already finished. I finished it. Now I carry the guilt and anguish of all those that died helping to finish it, and you want revenge?

"Is that who you are? Is the pain all that's left of you?" Harry asked tersely. "Are you going to spend the rest of your life causing others the same pain you feel? Destroying families? Is that the justice you want?"

He took a deep breath to try to relax his taut body and jangled nerves, pointed his wand at Donner and the man winced. Harry muttered, "Finite,"  
and the bonds released.

"My partner and I have spent our lives meting out the justice you seek and we carry the burden of it every day," Harry said in a tight voice. "We've spent weeks, months away from our families, slept in the rain, crawled through mud, killed when we had to to do our job. We've already captured all of the ones responsible for your loss and of so many others' loss. We are joined in the same battle."

He wantyed to launch a tirade at the man , but it was time to move on.  
"Rather than directing your energy and intelligence against us, those that are fighting for the same thing, you should be putting your effort into hunting the ones threatening other families and putting them in prison.  
That's what we do, the people you think are all killers. We're just husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers."

Harry gazed at Donner. "Do you really think we are your enemy?"

Donner stood, looking at the man in front of him and could discern no lie from him in voice, manner or body.

"You killed him? You really killed him then?" Donner asked.

Harry met the man's gaze and said nothing, giving a tiny nod.

"Then I've been wrong?" Donner asked. "That's what you're saying?  
Trying to find my family's killers?"

"Not wrong, really," Harry said, "but that's the past. Where is your future? That's the only thing important now. Where do you go from here?  
What are you going to do with your life?"

Donner stood mute in front of Harry.

"Grieve for your family as I have grieved for mine. Grieve for your wife, your son, your daughter. Then live, man, live a worthy life. Make a life so others won't feel the hurt and sorrow forced on us both. Live."

Harry watched tears pool up and fall down the man's cheeks, feeling his own eyes water and tears slide down his face as well. Behind him, he heard Ron sniff loudly.

For a long time the two faced each other, anger no longer covering his heartache, the other hurting from repressed emotions roiling inside. Harry wanted nothing more than Ginny's arms around him to take it all away.

"Now you must decide what to do with the rest of your life. What's it to be? Let the hate and despair destroy you while it ruins the lives around you?  
Or live, keeping other families safe from the pain you've felt?" Harry asked.

Two teary eyed men gazed at each other for a long time, then Harry waved his arm and asked, "Where do you want to go?"

"You're ... releasing me?" Donner asked in disbelief. "This is it?"

"We've both been hurt enough," Harry said softly. "I suppose this is my way of proving that to you."

"I ... I don't know where I want to go."

"We can take you to London, to Pontrilas, or your home," Harry said.  
"Wherever you want."

Donner wiped the tears from his eyes and said, "Pontrilas has been my home for so long, I suppose there would be best."

"Won't you have to explain your absence?" Harry asked.

"I don't have to explain my actions to anyone," Donner said gruffly,  
then quietly, softly, "except to myself."

"You sure about this?" Ron asked.

Harry put his boots in his locker and said, "Yes. I'll stay and run the office but I'm finished as a field agent. It's time for me to do other things.  
I'm not that much different than Donner in some ways, how I've been spending my life. Maybe, after a year or so, I'll go to work in the Minister's office. Kingsley made me an offer any time I want to take him up on it. I'd be working out a plan to bring our world and the Muggle world closer. They can never integrate, I see that now, but we can help each other in so many ways. It's just ... it'll have to done quietly, is all."

Harry let out a long sigh and a low chuckle. "Or maybe I'll see if Minerva needs help. If nothing else, I'd be a good Defense teacher. It's what I've been doing since that first train ride north when we were both kids", he grinned and said, "and we had all our hair."

"You'd be good at it," Ron said, absently running his hand over his head and feeling his growing forehead, "but it'd be waste of your talents."

Harry turned to his best friend. "You're in charge of field operations from now on," and stopped when Ron held up his hand.

"Uh, Harry, you see, I've been thinking," Ron said softly. "I can't count how many birthdays and other things we've both missed over the years. My kids aren't getting any younger and I think I want to spend more time with them. You know what I mean?"

Harry sighed then got a smile on his face. "I know exactly what you mean," he said. "You want to move on too?"

Ron nodded and said, "George made me an offer to go to work at his shop. I'd be home a lot more, Hermione would like that, and eating dinner with Rose and Hugo every night, it's something I want now. Listening to what you said to that Donner bloke kind of put it all in perspective for me."

Ron held out his hand and shook Harry's. "I'm really gonna miss this,  
mate. Not that I'll miss all the good times we had, like sleeping in the forest in the rain, traipsing through the mud, the night you found that nettle patch in Italy to pitch our tent in. You know, all the fun things we did together."

Harry grinned and said, "I'd've never lived through them without your humor. It has been a good run, yes? We did good things."

"Yes we did," Ron said then sighed deeply. "So, now we're going to be so responsible and all, what do we do for laughs?"

Harry chuckled. "Come over to my house this weekend. We've invited the Statterins for a roast up and Lily's going to teach Michael how to ride a broom."

END

Inspired by "Weapons Free".


End file.
